Sick, Shot, and Snarling
by AmyD and Suisan
Summary: The flu is raging through the department, LAPD nearly loses one of it's own and there's a plot afoot for a Big Score. Part 13 up. Story now COMPLETE. Missing Part Added 3/11/08.
1. Chapter 1

_**Sick, Shot, And Snarling**_

By: The Twisted Evilettes AKA Amy D & Suisan

Synopsis: The flu is raging through the department, LAPD nearly loses one of it's own and there's a plot afoot for a Big Score.

Disclaimer: The usual, we don't own them, we're only borrowing to entertain, they will be put back (mostly) unharmed, we're poor students, yada, yada, yada. Feedback is welcomed, however, all flames will be cheerfully ignored. Many thanks go to our Beta, Ely; without you, this story wouldn't have tightened up so nicely!

**Part One**

Don felt so bad that if someone were to shoot him and put him out of his misery, it would be considered a justifiable homicide and not murder. He also deemed it necessary to suffer in silence, not telling anyone he was sick and did his best to hide the symptoms, after all – there was way too much to do and he could sleep once he got home. Besides, he decided on upon further quiet contemplation, he didn't feel all that bad.

The agents on his team clearly did not share Don's personal assessment of his health – or lack there of. Especially Agent David Sinclair who was currently sitting in the passenger seat of Don's SUV, sitting as far away from his boss as was physically possible, as they made their way to a crime scene.

To be honest, Don didn't blame his agent for his reaction to being 'trapped' in the same vehicle with someone who, once he climbed behind the driving wheel, had done nothing but cough, sneeze and generally sound miserable. That was twenty-five minutes ago and now, as they wove their way through the crowded city streets, Don hadn't gone more than two minutes without barking like a dog.

One more round of coughing that left Don breathless was, apparently, the final straw for David's calm reserve. "Don, don't take this the wrong way but you sound like crap and if you're coming down with something, shouldn't you be nice to the rest of the team and not infect them like you've probably already have infected me?"

"I'm fine, David." Don replied, his voice coming out as a harsh croak.

"Yeah, right. The last time I heard noises like that, I was on the banks of a frog-filled pond." Don glared at him. "What? It's the truth! And when you're not coughing and croaking, you sound like an asthmatic."

"You keep this up and I'm going to breathe on you." Don shook his head; didn't David understand that there was too much to do? That, as bad as it sounded, Don wasn't that sick and once he got something to drink the coughing would go away.

"Too late." David snorted in disdain. "We're already sharing airspace in this car and have been for close to 30 minutes. If you're infectious, I'm already screwed."

"I'm not contagious, so you can stop complaining." Don snapped, then let out another deep cough that rattled his body.

"Tell you what, either you go home after the report is filed or I call Alan and tattle on you."

Don stifled another cough and glared at his agent. "Just how old are you again, Agent Sinclair?" He turned his attention back to the task at hand, dodging LA traffic, trying to gauge how much longer it would be before they arrived at the crime scene LAPD had requested their presence at. If he was right … he had another five minutes of Sarcastic Sinclair to suffer through.

"Old enough to know when my boss is sick and should probably not have come into work today. Or how to get him to go home if I thought he was being too stubborn for his own good, or that of the team." David snarked back, his voice and tone smooth as silk but still able to convey his underlying concern.

Don opened his mouth to respond, but another fierce coughing fit interrupted his attempt and he lost the ability to speak as just taking a simple breath became a huge priority. He barely managed to keep the GMC on the road as David suddenly undid his seatbelt, turned around in his seat and started digging for something in the back as Don came to a stop at a lighted intersection.

"Don, pull over." Came David's muffled voice from over Don's shoulder as the younger man dug around.

"What?" Don replied, annoyance coloring his raspy voice. "We're no where near the damn scene!"

"Pull over!" This time David put a modicum of undeniable command into his request, then clarified his request. "Look, just pull over, I don't want us in a wreck because you couldn't keep your eyes on the other idiots on the road due to your damn barking."

He felt another round of hacking cough building up in his chest, so Don pulled to the curb in a convenient empty parking slot, just as David let out a triumphant noise and, after settling back into the passenger seat, held up a unopened water bottle. The cough that was threatening Don finally broke forth and David lost no time unscrewing the bottle cap and handing the water to Don who managed to take it without spilling and got a few sips down between barks.

The coughing fit abated but Don was still 'not happy' with his junior agent and scowled at the man. "You've been hanging around Megan too long, Sinclair."

David laughed, good-naturedly. "If Megan were here, you would not have been allowed to drive."

Don had to admit, privately, that David had a point. A few more swigs from the bottle of lukewarm water settled the cough and the tickle in his throat that had caused most of Don's discomfort. He screwed the lid back on and glanced over at his partner for this call out. "Can we go now, 'Nancy Nurse'?"

David just grinned. "As long as you can see the road, I'm good."

Buckley Jewelry and Pawn was a non-descript store, on the fairly large side of 'hole-in-the-wall,' located in an equally unremarkable strip mall in San Clemente. David followed Don into the store where they were informed a LAPD detective by the name of Folger was in charge of the scene and, yes, awaiting their arrival. The officer on door detail wrote their names down then waved them deeper into the shop, hopefully in the general direction of the Detective.

He listened as Don took in a deep breath, then started to cough as the cooler interior air hit his lungs. David shook his head and stepped up to the nearest uniformed officer as they approached the display counter in the back. The officer looked at them and David flashed his credentials. "Agents Sinclair and Eppes, we're looking for Detective Folger?"

"Over there, talking to the owner." The officer pointed them toward an office nearly hidden behind a stack of old military fatigues.

David spotted a tall, sandy-haired man dressed in an off-the-rack suit, talking to an older gentleman holding a cold pack to his head and drew near. "Detective Folger?"

The man looked up from his note taking. "Yes?"

"Agents Sinclair and Eppes … we were told you found something of interest to the FBI here?"

Folger pursed his lips. "I wouldn't say that but—" If David hadn't been raised on the East Coast, he never would've heard the detective's barely detectable, but unmistakable New England accent as he led the way over to the far end of the display counter. "It's not much and I sure as hell didn't think it worth calling you but I'm just a lowly detective." He picked up an clear plastic evidence zippy bag and handed it to David. "That's it."

He looked at the contents, which turned out to be a tourist informational pamphlet, then handed it over to Don who had finally quit sounding like he'd swallowed a broken pipe organ. "Not much of a reason to call us, is it, Detective?"

The man shrugged. "Like I said, it was not my idea to call you."

David watched as Don handled the evidence bag, flipping it over a couple of times before handing it back to Folger. "So you find a info pamphlet about the Federal Reserve at a crime scene and your bosses get spooked." Don handed the bag back to the Detective. "Probably nothing to it, the Reserve is roughly ten-blocks away, they give public tours so it's more likely the darn thing was dropped by some harmless tourist."

"That's my thoughts too, but you know how jumpy bosses can be." Folger took the pamphlet back from Don just as the senior agent let out a couple of coughs.

David had to bite his tongue when Don nodded and then commiserated with the LAPD detective. "Understood, Folger. Sometimes we ground-pounders have to do what the 'shirts' above us tell us to do without questions." David quietly handed Don a pack of tissues as he started to sniffle.

"Allergies or one of the viruses that are flitting around town?" Folger asked Don.

"Probably allergies." Don replied and David restrained himself from calling his boss a liar. "Though it's the first time I've had a flare up since moving back to Los Angeles."

"Well, just in case—" Folger moved away from Don. "Stay clear of me and keep your potential germs to yourself. I don't know you well-enough to share bugs with you."

David couldn't stop the bark of laughter that escaped his lips and earned him a patented Eppes Glare. "It's not my fault the detective here has a good sense of self-preservation, Don."

Don let out a loud sigh of frustration. "It's just that I've been hearing lines like that since I started with a mild case of the sniffles." He handed the tissues pack back to David, who make a production of gingerly plucking the pack from the outstretched hand and tossing it into a nearby trashcan. "Damn it, Sinclair, it's not the plague!" Don snapped at him.

"Don … I'm just not taking any chances, okay?" David responded in a less-than-apologetic tone.

Folger cleared his throat. "Uh-hem. Sorry for dragging you down here for nothing, Agents."

David started to respond, but Don jumped in – resuming his mantle of control that he'd temporarily given over to David. "No problem, Detective. We came, we looked, and we'll file a report that will placate your supervisors and ours. No harm done." Don turned and faced David again. "You ready to get out of here, Sinclair?"

David nodded and turned to follow Don out of the store, only to stop, turn back and walked back up to Folger and handed him his business card. "Detective, if you find something that seems like more than what you have right now, don't hesitate to give us a call yourself." Folger pocketed the card and then, after a exchange of friendly handshakes, David caught up with Don just as the Supervisory Agent was climbing back behind the wheel of his SUV.

* * *

"Go home." Megan told Don after listening to him hack, sneeze and carry on since he and David had returned from the consultation with LAPD. "Before you infect the rest of us, and not to your place. You go there, you'll just stew in your own juices, end up half-dead come morning and still not realize you're sick." She scolded him from what she hoped was a 'safe' distance.

"Have you been talking to Elaine?" Don asked between sneezes, referring to the wife of Lieutenant Walker who just happened to be his cardiologist.

"Will it get you to go home faster if I had?" Megan quipped, not expecting or waiting for a response but mildly surprised when she got an affirmative nod; so she lied directly to his face. "Then, yes, I did." She tried to ignore David and Colby's all too obvious interested glances from where they sat.

"I'm fine!" Don responded heatedly. "It's just a little cold." He turned his back on her, sitting down at his desk and opened a file on his desk, effectively dismissing her; however, his traitorous body trying to expel a lung or two spoiled the 'dismissal.' "It's just a cold." Megan heard him mutter before he looked over at Colby and David and growled at them. "Don't you two have reports or follow-ups to do?"

Megan almost laughed as the two agents quickly found very engrossing things to attend to on their desks, just as Don turned his laser glare on her. She shook her head and returned to her own reports, but not giving up on the idea of somehow forcing Don's hand and making him leave before he spread the germs he was harboring.

Her opportunity came later, just after lunch, when the Assistant Director of Agents came through on one of his near-daily walkabout. Megan quickly intercepted the man before he got close enough to where Don would over-hear her discussion with him. "Director Wright?"

"Agent Reeves, what can I do for you?" ADA Wright replied pleasantly enough.

"Sir, I'm hoping you will have more luck that I've had with a stubborn agent. He's too sick to be here, but too obstinate to leave even though he's barking like an emphysemic harbor seal." Megan made it a point to look directly at Don as she outlined his behavior for the ADA.

The Director followed her gaze and, stepped backwards when he spotted a clearly unwell Don Eppes sitting at his desk, huddled over a stack of paperwork and coughing, sniffling and occasionally sneezing. "Just what we don't need – another division down in manpower." He looked back at Megan. "How long has he been ill and how many people has Eppes possibly infected?"

"Sinclair for certain, they went out on a call this morning." She shrugged as she continued to think about whom else her boss might have contaminated. "Myself, Agent Granger and, since Eppes has been like that all morning … probably a good portion of this entire floor."

"Lovely." Wright squared his broad shoulders and approached the cubicle where Don Eppes sat looking utterly miserable. "Eppes! Get out of my office before you're declared a walking biohazard and do NOT come back here until you no longer look like something a vulture wouldn't touch."

"I'm fine, dammit!" Don replied, and though Megan wouldn't have believed it if someone told her, seeing her already pale supervisor turn white when he realized he'd just barked at the Assistant Director was almost funny. "Sir! I'm fine... it's just a cold—" he turned and locked eyes with Megan and she knew he knew she'd just set Wright on him.

"No argument, Eppes. Leave." Wright's body language, along with his tone, brooked no argument, but that didn't stop Eppes from attempting a stare-down with their boss, which Megan found extremely interesting. From a behaviorist's point of view, of course. After about twenty seconds of the silent battle of wills, Megan watched in quiet triumph as Don broke eye contact first and reached over to boot down his computer.

"All right … you win." Don glanced over at Megan even as he forwarded his phone to hers. "I'm going home. Happy?"

"Ecstatic!" She replied.

"'Bout damn time." Came from behind her and Megan turned to see Wright glaring at either David or Colby.

"Sinclair, right?" Wright correctly identified the speaker.

"Yes, sir?"

"Since, according to Agent Reeves, you've already been exposed to Eppes' viruses, you can give him a ride home since I'm pretty sure he's in no condition to drive." Wright turned his attention back to Don before continuing, "At least not without endangering the safety of the very citizens he's sworn to protect."

"Yes, sir." David replied and started shutting down his desk and shunting his phone over to Colby's.

Megan knew Wright was observing her as she brushed past him to stand over Don who was taking his sweet time getting to his feet. "Don, give me your keys and your department cell phone. I want you to go to Charlie's house and I do not want you tempted to come back here later tonight to 'take care of a few things'."

"I'm not going to Charlie's—"

"David, straight to the Eppes house. No detours." Megan interrupted Don's protest and waited until the chauffeuring agent nodded his agreement before addressing her boss again. "Don, it's like this; if I hear you talked David into dropping you off at your apartment, I'll sic Alan on you."

Don glared at her defiantly. "That, Megan, is a low blow."

"Yes, it is, but you also know I'll do it."

"Yeah, you would." He finally stood up and slipped his jacket on. "All right, David, haul my sickly butt out to Pasadena." Don moved toward the 'door' of his cubicle, only to have Colby and David block the way.

"First things first, Don." Megan said as she stepped around the younger agents. "Your cell phone and keys, please, or were you hoping I would forget?"

Don at least had the grace to blush when she called him on it, or he was getting flushed with fever, but he dug the keys out and tossed them at her. Colby's hand reached out and caught the flying metal and handed it to David before Megan could react. Then Don pulled his cell phone and it's holder off his belt and held it out toward her. "Uh-huh. Put it on the desk, I am not touching that germ-laden piece of equipment after watching you talk on it earlier."

He did as he was told and Megan, Colby and Assistant Director Wright moved out of Don's way as he joined David and the two of them left the area. She nodded at Colby, who immediately returned to his desk and then she turned to ADA Wright. "Sir, thanks for your assistance, I'm pretty sure he would've stayed until it became necessary to call an ambulance for him if you hadn't ordered him home."

"No problem, Reeves. I do have a question though." She looked at him expectantly. "Just who the hell is "Alan" and why was Agent Eppes worried you would 'sic' him on him?"

Megan let out a small chuckle before explaining. "Alan is Agent Eppes' father, sir."

Wright let loose with a snicker of his own. "Ah, parental pressure. That is both sneaky and underhanded, I like that in an Agent, Reeves."

"Thank you, sir." Megan watched for a few minutes as Wright continued his walkabout, clearly checking to make sure no one else was sick, before she returned to her own work.

* * *

"You don't have to come in, David. I think I can make it in to the house on my own." Don snarled. It rankled to have been booted from the office for something as minor as a cold. He wasn't about to have his embarrassment increased ten-fold by having his father find out, in fact, he planned on calling a cab company the minute David was gone so he could go to his apartment. Don would admit his cold to his dad, just not right away.

"I didn't say you couldn't." David opened the driver's side door and got out.

Don scowled. Once again, he was being treated like a ten year-old, and people wondered why he had trust issues? He climbed out of the passenger side seat of his department-issued GMC and trudged up the walkway to the front steps, where David was calmly waiting for him. "After you." The young agent said, pleasantly, as he gestured toward the heavy oak door of the Craftsman style house.

He experienced a very vivid mental hallucination of himself slamming the front door in David's face, but then Don realized he just plain didn't have the energy to do the deed, or explain why he did it afterwards. "Fine… come on in if you must, just don't get to close to Dad, all right?" Don fished the key ring with his house keys on it out of his pocket, then popped open the door before looking back at David. "I don't want you giving him whatever it is that's making the rounds."

"Shoulda thought of that before you breathed on me." David muttered as he stepped past Don into the vestibule of the Eppes house, which earned him the nastiness glare Don could muster as he secured the door behind the young man. However, the glare died quickly as he noticed how David's eyes lit up as he scanned the interior of Don's childhood home. How could he stay mad at someone who loved the Craftsman as much as he, Charlie and even Alan did?

Thinking of Alan… Don spotted his father sitting in his favorite armchair, the newspaper lowering to greet his son even as he and David stepped into the room. "Donnie … this is a surprise."

"Hi, Dad." Don took his sweet time stripping his coat off and hanging it, carefully, across the back of the other recliner.

"Hello, David." Alan put the paper down, took his reading glasses off and stood up. "What brings you two by?" His sharp gaze landed on Don as he loosened his tie and dropped into the recliner he had just draped his sport coat on.

He waved at the young man standing behind him. "Go ahead, David, tell him. I know you want to—" Don was rudely interrupted by a round of volatile sneezing that nearly left him breathless.

"Donnie…" Alan reproached him, but Don was more concerned with catching his breath.

"It's all right, Alan." David assured his father. "Don was sent home by ADA Wright because he looks terrible, sounds worse and probably has the flu bug that's been making the rounds at the office."

His father's astute stare lanced across the room as Alan walked the small distance between the two mission-style recliners and laid a cool hand on Don's brow. "I'm being treated like a nine-year old child." Don groused, then started to sneeze, interspersed with little half-sneezes coupled with sniffles.

"Humph!" Alan pulled up on his chin and Don had to look his father in the eyes. "You act like a child, you get treated like one. Adults know that when they're running a fever, they're sick and need to get home or to a doctor. Especially when they sound like you do, Donnie."

Don jerked his chin out of his father's grip as another sneeze threatened to rip through his sinuses. One sneeze escaped before he could respond. "I'm damn near forty." More sneezes rent the air, followed by a miserable series of sniffles.

"Then act like it." Alan gently reproached him. "Now, go on up to your old room and behave." With much muttering and grumbling, sneezing and sniffling, and good old-fashioned stomping, Don made his way upstairs, leaving David to tell any tales he felt like to his father.

He watched as Don clomped up the stairs and disappeared down the hallway before turning to David Sinclair. The young man spoke up before Alan could question him further about Donnie. "Alan, I do not envy you having to put up with Don while he tries to get over this. He's been a foul mood all morning and it's only gotten worse as the afternoon progressed."

He let out a snort. "Where do you think he gets it from?"

"So he's always been so—"

"Stubborn?" Alan interrupted but David nodded in agreement. "Oh yes. David, tell me one thing if you can? How long has Don sounded like a sick seal?"

David shrugged his shoulders. "I first noticed the wheezing when we were on the way to a consult with LAPD this morning. Wait until he starts coughing, that's when he _really_ sounds like an asthmatic seal."

As if on cue, the sound of harsh coughing drifted down from upstairs. "I understand completely. Donnie will be okay, David. I've nursed him through more than one round of bronchitis and that is what it sounds like he's got."

"You know, he wasn't even given the option of going back to his place. We'd all kinda like him back in one piece. _After_ he's better." David told Alan, a smile on his face.

"I'd like to keep him that way myself. Call me selfish, but I need him and Charlie to take care of me in my later years." Alan replied.

David's smile grew. "Yes, sir. I totally understand. Now, I have to get back to the office before Megan comes looking for me. Call if you need anything. Handcuffs, rope..."

Alan let out a laugh. "I'll do that. Thanks for bringing him home."

"You're welcome Alan. Oh, just so you know, Megan confiscated his cell phone and car keys." David held up the keys to Don's FBI issued SUV. "I'll be parking it in the garage at the office so, hopefully, that will keep him pretty much grounded here."

That got another snort of near laughter from Alan. "Megan knows him too well."

After David left, Alan went upstairs to find the vaporizer and set it up on the bedside table in Don's room while his eldest was in the bathroom taking a nice, hot shower. Then, after making sure his sick son was in bed, Alan went down to the kitchen and started to assemble the ingredients necessary for his patented Chicken Noodle Soup. When Charlie came home several hours later, it was bubbling merrily along. The family genius sniffed the air, then quipped, "Who's sick?"


	2. Chapter 2

See Disclaimer in Part One

**Part Two**

Lieutenant Gary Walker parked his privately owned vehicle, a deep blue Dodge Intrepid, a car his wife teased him about - as his car was the same make and model the Los Angeles Police Department had gone to for their marked patrol units. After making sure his lightweight windbreaker would cover his sidearm, he stepped out of the car onto the 600 block of S. Broadway.

No one who had met him while he was on duty would recognize the 17-year veteran Lieutenant. He _always_ wore his LAPD blues. Always. Even after his promotion to command of the Gang Interdiction Unit, when he was expected to put on the 'white shirt' of upper supervisors, he kept his blues on. Much to the disgust of other supervisors and to the utter delight of uniformed officers throughout Los Angeles and the Greater Los Angeles area. He might be a Lieutenant, he might even be on the short list for the next round of promotions to Captain, but he never stopped being the cop on the street.

Locking the car, he tugged on the windbreaker again to reassure himself that, yes, it was covering his approved off-duty weapon; Gary crossed the street to approach Hauer's Fine Jewelry and found his eyes automatically assessing the vehicle and pedestrian traffic on the street. There was a group of young men window-shopping, which was odd, but not unheard of in the Jewelry District, not if one of them was shopping for an engagement ring - or an apology gift. An older model Ford LTD, a decommissioned police car no less, rattled southbound on Broadway. It passed beyond his area of immediate responsibility and he pushed it out of his mind. He paused on the curb to let a group of women pass by then walked the few paces to the storefront of Hauer's. Only then did he think to look up and down the street to see if he could spot his wife's car. He did. It was parked on the opposite side of South Broadway from his car but almost three blocks to the north toward Wiltshire Boulevard.

Doctor Elaine Donovan-Walker had parked her gray GMC Denali where it was less likely to be hit by idiot drivers speeding along the street but also in a place where it would be covered by the surveillance of no less than three stores. Gary chuckled at his wife's obvious security tactics. He couldn't even take credit for having taught her to be so security minded. That had fallen to her father, retired Deputy Police Commissioner Daniel Donovan. Even her brother, Lieutenant Chris Donovan - one of the training officers for LAPD's SWAT team, could claim that he'd helped hone Elaine's sense of security more than her husband of eight years could. Thoughts of Elaine brought him back to why he was standing in front of Johan Hauer's fine jewelry establishment. He'd asked Elaine to meet him here today without telling her why. The 'why' was he wanted to spring a surprise on her a full week prior to their 9th wedding anniversary.

Pulling open the door to Hauer's, Gary entered the store, his eyes zeroing in on his lovely redheaded wife, who was chatting with Johan and his wife, Rebecca, at one of the counters toward the rear of the shop. Elaine glanced over her shoulder to see who'd walked into the store. Even as Johan and Rebecca smiled in greeting, Gary moved deeper into the store, intent on being the one to actually show Elaine the gifts he'd chosen for her personally.

When the chimes above the door sounded again behind Gary, he saw Johan and Rebecca's expressions change from friendly to fearful. Even Elaine's face took on a look of warning. He started to move, twisting his body to present a slimmer target to anyone coming in behind him as his hand started to move to his sidearm--

WHAM!!

The sensation of being hit hard in the neck traveled through his body even as he heard someone scream his name and the world started to spin. Gary found himself laying on the Spanish tiled floor, wondering how he ended up there and why he couldn't feel the left side of his body below where he'd been hit by …

"Nice to see you, Lieutenant Walker." The voice was rough, snarling its greeting. Gary tried to roll off his right side to see who was standing above him and talking to him in that tone of voice but he couldn't. "Payback's a bitch, ain't it?" His body moved, but not by him. Oddly, he couldn't feel the kick that had to have been delivered to move his body like that.

'_Not a good sign there, Walker … you are totally screwed._' Gary felt a helpless rage even as his wife's voice, calm and soothing, started to register on his ears. He could tell that she was moving closer but he couldn't make out a single word she was saying.

* * *

Elaine Walker had been pleasantly taken aback when Gary had called her at work earlier that day and suggested meeting her at Hauer's Jewelry. Johan and Rebecca Hauer had been the only jewelers her parents had ever used and she knew her father had suggested the store to Gary when it became obvious to nearly everyone but Gary that he was going to propose. Her wedding band, a 1ct solitaire diamond bracketed by 2 baguette cut emeralds, one for each year they had dated, was made of platinum long before the white metal became 'all the craze' of the modern bride, had been handmade by Johan and inscribed on the inside with their wedding date by Rebecca.

She loved the ring and made Gary promise that he'd never try to 'upgrade' it with something else and he'd agreed. So why he wanted to meet her at Hauer's, seven days before their 9th Anniversary, was a complete mystery. They'd already gotten their presents for each other: a nice trip to Kauai, Hawaii complete with a stay at a 'remote' cabin on the north end of the island where their stay was 'guaranteed' to be as undisturbed as they wanted by the hosts. They would leave Los Angeles the day before their anniversary and spend the actual date in seclusion on the garden island.

Johan and Rebecca had greeted her like a long-lost daughter when she came into the store, a full fifteen minutes before she was to meet Gary - traffic from Pacifica Hospital had been shockingly light. Rebecca had chastised her for not taking better care of her wedding rings and offered to clean them while they waited for Gary to arrive. Elaine handed over the rings, but not without trepidation for she only removed them when she scrubbed to assist in a surgery. Even then, she'd thread them onto a chain she would wear under her surgical scrubs. While Rebecca was cleaning the rings, Johan was trying to tempt her pocketbook by showing her a new shipment of amber he had just gotten in from the Baltic.

The announcement chimes sounded over the entrance door and Elaine glanced over her shoulder to see Gary walking in. He never looked comfortable in civilian clothes as much as he looked out of place. His LAPD uniform was such a part of who he was that he never appeared 'right' in anything else.

'_Or I grew up around way too many cops_.' She thought to herself, which was probably why her instincts started to scream at her when three young men came into the store right behind Gary.

The first man pushed deeper into the store intent on something behind Elaine, as the second male moved a little to his left but the third one was moving wrong. A moment later she knew why when she saw him raise a revolver and the deafening noise of the gun being discharged shattered the peace.

"GARY!" She watched as her husband's head snapped to the right and his body spun to the ground where he lay still as death. Elaine's hands dove into the pockets of the raincoat she was wearing, feeling around for anything that might be used as a pressure bandage even as she cursed herself mentally for leaving her day planner, with it's cleverly concealed handgun, in the Denali.

"Make another move and I'll shoot you too, lady." The man who'd fired the shot that had laid Gary out waved the blued revolver, a .38 or .357 if she had to guess, in her direction. Elaine brought her hands back out to show the tough that all she had was a couple of white handkerchiefs.

"I just want to stop the bleeding … he's losing a lot of blood."

"Who are you and what's Lieutenant Walker to you?"

"My name's Elaine and Gary's an old family friend. Please, let me help him, I've got medical training…" She carefully omitted her last name, hoping the perpetrators would assume she was somehow related to the Hauer's.

The man who'd come into the store just ahead of the one Elaine was talking to, had locked the store's door and flipped over the 'open' sign to read 'closed'. "Go ahead and let her do what she can, Joel." He said. "Jake needs a little more time with the escape route." He tossed a single ball-bowling bag at the man. "In the mean time, grab the merch."

"I want that son of bitch to hurt like my brother did after Walker sent him to San Quentin." Joel said. His words made her very happy she hadn't claimed to be Gary's wife; He probably would have shot her just to cause Gary grief.

She had taken advantage of the two thug's conversation to move closer to Gary, and was dismayed to see an ever-widening pool of blood surrounding his head and upper body. "That may still happen even if you let me try to help him … he's bleeding out." A slight exaggeration, but she was betting that none of the criminals had ever seen a person actually bleed out.

"What the hell, help him if you want." The first man said.

She dropped down on her knees next to Gary, conveniently putting his body between herself and the robbers, but also giving herself access to his off-duty weapon as well as the right amount of leverage to apply pressure to his wound. "Gary, Gary … I'm sorry," Elaine quietly whispered to him as she moved his unconscious body a little. "This is going to hurt like hell, babe." She moved the remains of his windbreaker and golf shirt to expose the injury and breathed a sigh of relief.

She had feared, from the way he'd fallen, that the bullet had slammed into his neck and lodged in his spine. There wasn't an obvious exit wound but the entry wound wasn't really on the neck, it was placed more or less on the upper shoulder just above the interior clavicle, which was showing white shards through the pulsing ruby flow. "Oh thank God. Baby, it's not as bad as it probably feels or that it's going to feel in a second--" She waded up the two cloths in her hand and, staring into his clouded, light brown eyes, stuffed the makeshift packing into the wound, clamping down with her right hand to apply pressure.

His near scream of pain ripped her soul apart but it didn't stop her from keeping up the pressure or smiling when she realized he'd regained full consciousness. "Welcome back, Lieutenant."

"Aw, HELL that hurts!" His voice wasn't its usual strong, self-assertive tone, but she didn't expect it to be. "How many?" This time his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Three. One is definitely armed; I'm not sure about the other two. One is in the back with Johan, the other is up front with Becca pulling stuff out of the cases." Even as she spoke, giving Gary the information he'd want about the criminals, she was slowly working his off-duty weapon out of the holster on his waist with her left hand. "The one who shot you is called Joel … claims he wants to 'hurt' you for something that happened to his brother after you sent him to San Que?"

"Oh, hell… 'Laney, do you have any idea how many men that is?" Gary tried to move his hand up to his side arm to do what Elaine was preparing to do in his stead but couldn't move his hand above his thigh. "I can't move my right side."

Elaine nearly lost control of her roller coaster emotions at his dead-level, unflappable, just-stating-the-facts delivery of what could spell disaster for him and his police career. "Shot shock. The concussive effect from the projectile hitting near your spinal column has temporarily fracked your nervous system." She lied to him, for the first time since she'd meet him at her father's retirement party, she lied to her husband. There was no such thing as 'shot shock' but, hell, she was a doctor and she could, if she had to, lie like a politician and make the patient believe what she told him. Even if it was her husband who was slowly, but surely, losing blood in spite of her attempt to stop the wound.

"Fracked?" Gary fixated on the nonsensical word. "_Fracked_? That's not a word." She finally worked his weapon free of its holster when Gary coughed and she looked him in the eyes. "Nice and easy, honey. Take the shot when you can, don't force it and, remember, the pull on this one is a bit tighter than yours." His voice was low, the cadence smooth and it reminded her of the one time she watched him run his hand-picked team through a refresher course at the PD's gun range. It actually helped her to focus and decide her course of action.

Thug number one, Jake, who'd been in the back with Johan, came back to the front with the older man just as thug number two, Joel, finished emptying the cases on his side of the store and brought Rebecca to join Johan behind the counter which was behind Elaine and Gary. This worried Elaine as she realized if, Joel, the armed perp, got off a shot, it could, quite possibly, hit one of the Hauers. This information percolated through her brain in what seemed to be slow motion, calming her like visualizing inserting a stint prior to actually doing it did so in surgery.

"All right, we got what we came for, let's get out of here." Joel announced to their merry little band. Thug number three, Elaine thought the others had called him 'Mike,' nodded picked up two bowling bags worth of merchandise and walked past Jake into the back.

"Just give me a minute, I'll meet you two out back." Thug number two, Joel, called out to his buddies even as he walked to where Elaine knelt over Gary. "So, Elaine … is he going to live or should I put him out of his misery?" He raised the Smith & Wesson five-shot Chief's Special and motioned like he was going to pull the trigger.

Elaine didn't give him the chance, she brought Gary's Glock 40 compact up in a smooth motion with her left hand and, giving the trigger a hard squeeze, fired one round into Jake at a distance of less than 8 feet. The man doubled over to his right side, turned and staggered out the back door before she could squeeze off another shot. "Damn it!" She laid the gun down on the tile floor next to Gary. "You've got to get that trigger worked on, it's way too damn stiff!"

"New York trigger, honey." Gary coughed again, this time it was more of a choking sound than a true cough. "Did you drill 'im?"

"Gut shot, I was aiming for his chest but you must have a pull on that trigger that is better than seven pounds of pressure." She was rapidly growing concerned. She hadn't heard any sirens yet, Gary was losing color and, though he tried to hide it, the pain had to be bad.

Johan laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Help should be here soon, I wasn't able to trip the alarm until I got the safe open for the criminal."

Rebecca suddenly appeared on her knees across Gary's body from Elaine, holding a couple of large, clean hand towels. "Here, use these if you can."

She grabbed both towels and without removing the soaked handkerchiefs and applied the heavy knap terry cloth material to the wound. Just then the welcome sound of emergency sirens reverberated through the front windows of the storefront. Reaching down, she grabbed Gary's badge clip off his belt and handed it to Rebecca. "Carefully and slowly go out front and tell the officers '439 - everything code four - 439'. Can you do that, Becca?"

Rebecca nodded, got to her feet and slowly followed what Elaine had told her, including telling the responding officers that there was an injured officer on the scene without actually saying that out loud.

Sergeant Kevin Ernst was the first officer through the door. His partner, a younger man Elaine didn't know, cleared the backroom as Kevin got on his portable radio and called for an ambulance. Luckily, there was a paramedic crew nearby and they were on the scene within minutes, but even when the paramedic was there to relieve her, Elaine refused to let up on the pressure she was applying to Gary's still seeping wound.

She gave a few clipped answers to Sergeant Ernst: "Yes, Gary was shot by a white male, about 25 years of age called Joel by his buddies. YES, I shot the son of a bitch with Gary's off-duty weapon; the sonuvabitch was about to shoot my husband again! No, I'm riding with him, you want to send someone to talk to me they can catch me wherever Gary's going."

The paramedic and his partner managed to scoop Gary up without making Elaine lose her grip on her makeshift pressure bandage. She nearly ran alongside the gurney as they rolled Gary out of the jewelry store, half way down the block to the ambulance and then scrambled to climb into the back of the 'bus. The Paramedic barked out a destination to the driver as the man closed the doors and soon the Walker family was rushing toward UCLA Medical Center.

* * *

"Agent Reeves." Megan answered the phone automatically, her mind on the case in front of her.

"_Agent Reeves, this is Director Wright. Round up what's left of your team and report to my office._"

"Yes, sir." Megan hung up the phone, 'locked down' her computer, stood and pulled her jacket from the back of the chair. "Granger, Sinclair…."

Two head popped up.

"Wright wants us in his office now."

The two men nodded and joined her on the way to the elevator.

"What's up?" David asked, punching the elevator call button.

"He wouldn't say." Megan replied. She eyed David critically. "How are you doing?"

He shrugged. "So far so good. I got a flu shot before Don breathed all over me so, even if I do get it, hopefully it won't be as bad as it could."

"Or maybe you'll have some sense of self-preservation and go home and stay there before it gets too bad." Colby said. The elevator came and he held the doors open before joining his team. The elevator doors slid shut and the elevator rose upward smoothly.

David grinned. "I don't know…hack me off Granger and I'll breathe on you."

Colby moved as far as he could from David.

Megan frowned at David. "You leave me as the only healthy member on this team and you'll regret the day you walked into this building."

The arrival of the elevator on the 17th floor kept David from replying. Andrea, Director Wright's secretary, waved them in without saying a word and shut the door behind them. He waited for them to be seated before speaking.

"LAPD has requested our help in investigating an officer-involved shooting." He said, without preamble. "Lieutenant Gary Walker, off-duty at the time, was shot in front of his wife while they were jewelry shopping." Director Wright's tone was professional, containing no emotion whatsoever and yet, each person felt the weight of his word personally. Being shot, possibly killed was something each one of them faced every day. It was simply part of the job. "This investigation is being done as a 'favor' to our brothers in uniform. They're just a bit distracted right now. Plus, I understand your team has a history with Lieutenant Walker?"

"Yes, sir." Megan replied.

"A good working relationship?" Wright asked.

Something close to a smile crossed Megan's lips. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Wright handed a folder across his desk to Megan. "Apparently the lieutenant's wife took his off-duty weapon from him and shot the assailant. Pick one of your team to go and talk with her; someone who might understand, or at least sympathize what she's going through."

"Certainly." Megan replied, shooting a quick glance at Colby.

"And keep the lieutenant's boss in the loop, his name is Commander Raymond Reynosa."

She nodded.

Silence fell as no one wanted to ask the one question on everyone's mind but ADA Wright answered the unspoken query anyway. "Lieutenant Walker is listed in serious condition at UCLA Medical Center. Anything else?" Silence answered him. "You're dismissed. Agent Reeves?" He asked her.

She turned. "Yes, sir?"

"I want progress reports twice a day, at least."

"Yes, sir." Folder in hand, Megan left the office, catching up with David and Colby at the elevator. "Colby, I want you to go and talk to Elaine."

"Me?!" Colby turned a shade paler. "Why me, Reeves? Why not David?"

"She's met you and Don may have infected David already, that's why." Megan replied.

The elevator came and again, Colby held the door open for everyone before joining the others. The elevator doors slid shut and the elevator descended. "If I come back missing a couple of fingers, you'll know why." He grumbled.

"If that happens, I'll personally test Elaine for heavy metal content." Megan replied.

Colby frowned. "Geez, survive arsenic poisoning once because you can tolerate heavy metal contaminates and constantly get harassed for it."

Megan patted him on the shoulder. "We kid because we care, Granger."

"Yeah, I know ... it's like being around Lars, Cliff and Cody without having to go back home."

"Question?" David asked, looking at both Megan and Colby. When they looked at him, "How do you know Walker's wife and on a first name basis no less?"

Megan and Colby exchanged a looks before Colby answered. "This goes back to when Don nearly dropped dead from heat stroke. A cardiologist was called in to look at Don. That cardiologist was, is, Dr. Elaine Donovan-Walker."

"Or Elaine as she likes to be called." Megan added.

"And she's a holy terror?" David asked.

"She can be." Colby said. "She just about bit Charlie's head off."

"She had a good reason, Granger." Megan replied. The elevator stopped and they all got off, heading for their desks. "Take the mug books with you." She told Colby. "David, I want you to go back to…" She flipped open the folder and scanned the contents. "…Hauer's Fine Jewelry and go over the witness statements with them. Colby, when you come back you can start on the videotapes. Myself, I'm going to call Walker's boss and let him know we're on the case."

Colby and David were gone a couple of minutes later, leaving Megan with the unenviable task of speaking with the downed officer's superior. It was never a pleasant conversation.

She dialed the number listed in the case information and waited. "Commander Reynosa, please." She said, when the call went through. "This is Agent Reeves of the FBI. I'm calling regarding Lieutenant Gary Walker."


	3. Chapter 3

See Disclaimer in Part One

**Part Three**

Elaine had never thought about just how much the paramedics had to go through when treating patients in a moving vehicle, but she was not about to let go of Gary's wound either, forcing the poor medic to work around her. She released her death grip only once, to apply another wad of bandaging material to sop up the blood still pouring out of Gary's neck and shoulder, but she'd immediately reapplied the pressure - leaving the medic free to get an I.V. started and to communicate with the hospital.

Within minutes she felt the ambulance thump up and over a hump, more like a speed bump, the squeal of tortured heavy-duty breaks reverberating through the treatment bay. Just as the forward motion stopped, the loading doors flew open and no less than two orderlies, at least one doctor, noticed by the wild scrubs he was wearing, and two female staff members pulled the gurney, and Elaine along with it, out of the bay and into the Emergency Room. They passed quickly through the entranceway into a treatment room. Before Elaine could say anything, one of the nurses was there at her side.

"Doctor, you can let go now, we've got him." Elaine stared at the woman, a handsome woman with coffee-colored skin and the kindest, greenest eyes she'd ever seen. "Doctor Walker, we can handle Gary from here, you need to let go, sugar."

Elaine nodded, knowing the woman was right but it took a great deal of effort to remove her hand from the improvised bandaging, watching as the soft-spoken nurse took her place. Another woman, a petite blonde of surprising strength, gently maneuvered her out of the way, out of the treatment room and into a small, private waiting room just next door. "You can wait in here, I'll inform admitting where you are, we'll take good care of the Lieutenant."

Outside the treatment room, the commotion that was business as usual in a busy trauma center hit Elaine like a brick wall. She'd been so focused on Gary she hadn't heard anything beyond her immediate physical surroundings. The next few minutes passed in a blur as a nice, young woman in civilian clothes came by and asked a few questions to put in Gary's medical file. Then she was left alone, until Gary's commanding officer, Raymond Reynosa, came through, accompanied by one of the LAPD Chaplains. Elaine barely heard their words of comfort or reassurances, her heart and her mind were focused on Gary, willing him to be all right.

* * *

Word of Lieutenant Walker's shooting spread like wildfire through the Law Enforcement community and it wasn't long before LAPD officers of every stripe and rank started arriving at UCLA Medical Center to donate blood. Los Angeles County Sheriff's Office and a handful of CHiP officers followed them; most were sent back outside to wait for the blood mobile but not all of them.

One man, fairly tall, muscular, with short, dark auburn hair and deep blue eyes came in and stepped up to the nurse's station. The nurse, taking in his dark uniform all the way down to his combat boots, was about to send him back outside when he identified himself and was sent in a different direction. He followed the nurse's directive, walking past the main waiting room, to a smaller more private waiting room. He stopped in the doorway for just a moment, then walked in. Two of the three people in the room, both men, looked up. The third, a woman, did not. She was far too immersed in her own grief to notice.

He looked at the man on the left, the one with the insignia of a police commander on his dark blue uniform and greeted him with a terse word. "Sir." The commander nodded back. The other man, also in LAPD blues, but with the stripes of a Sergeant on his sleeves and a couple of silver crosses on his collar, warranted a slightly warmer greeting. "Father Mike." He then focused all of his attention on the seated woman.

Her clothes were covered in blood, the blood of his fellow law enforcement officer, but she didn't seem to care. He squatted down in front of her, reached out and touched her knees to get her attention. When she looked up, her blue eyes were swimming in unshed tears and he felt the first fission of fear touch his heart since hearing of the shooting. "Elaine … I came as soon as I could."

Doctor Elaine Donovan Walker launched herself at him and Lieutenant Christopher Padraig Donovan, LAPD SWAT, found himself rocketing to his feet and holding onto his sister like her life depended on the physical strength of their contact. "Chrisss…" She managed to get his name out, but then the tears she had been holding back came flooding out. He managed to turn around to signal the commander and sergeant to leave them alone, only to see the Padre was already shoo'ing Gary Walker's commander out of the room.

"Hey, shush, Elaine, shush…. Everything will be all right." This was a new, and somewhat frightening, position Chris found himself in. Elaine had always been the strong one, the one who never cried, or broke down or lost her temper and yet, here she was, bawling as if her husband… "Elaine… Gary's not--"

"No!" Her head came up off his shoulder so fast that her skull connected with his jaw, making his teeth clack together. "No, he's alive … but--" she took in a shuddering breath, "--Chris, he's hurt. _Really_ hurt. There was no exit wound and too much blood loss and, and…" She didn't finish. He wouldn't let her; he just laid his hand on her head and tucked it under his chin.

"Elaine, you know Gary's too damn ornery to just die … He'll be okay. You have to believe that." He felt her nod and slowly maneuvered his sister to sit back down in the seat and sat right next to her. "Yup, no way Gary's going to let some punk-ass, two-bit skank of a thief be the end of him, no way. I bet he's in there telling the doctors and staff to slap a bandage on him and get him out of here."

His sister responded just the way he had hoped she would, she chuckled. "Chris, that's a terrible thing to say about your brother-in-law."

"Maybe, but it's true. Gary's too damn stubborn to let some street punk put him down."

"You are a terrible liar." Elaine said, her voice full of raw emotion.

"Me? A liar? Sis, would I lie to you? My own flesh and blood?"

"No -- Maybe. I don't know." Her eyes filled with tears again and she leaned her head on Chris's shoulder even as he wrapped his arm across her upper back and pulled her in close. He would stay with her until someone came and told them how Gary was doing and to hell with what his team was supposedly doing at this very minute. Over on the other side of town. Without him. Family, even those only related through marriage and the badge, came first.

* * *

"Sis, I know you shot the son of a bitch ... _where_ did you hit him?" Chris said, watching his sister carefully.

"Abdomen." Elaine replied. The tears had stopped for the moment but that was no guarantee that they wouldn't start again and no wonder why.

"Good. Nice, painful and slow death. Too good for him though."

"I was aiming for his heart but I missed. Shooting off hand, ya know."

"Gary's off-duty sidearm?"

"Yeah."

"I need to get him to lessen the trigger pull on that. You're okay though, right? Physically? Not injured anywhere?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine." She looked down at her clothes. "This is all Gary's." She bit her lip and tried not to start crying again.

"Hey, don't do that. Gary's going to be fine. Hell, once he wakes up, he's probably going to be pissed you had to fire his weapon in his defense instead of him protecting you." Chris squeezed her hand.

She almost smiled. "Where did you get pulled from?"

He didn't answer her directly. "Nothing's as important as family." He looked over at her and she gave him her best 'don't-bullshit-me' look. "You really want to know?" Elaine nodded. "It was boring, routine surveillance on a suspect house and we were waiting on the warrant to come through before we took the door."

"I wondered why you were in your Ninja gear."

"Yeah, well, now you know."

She was about to tell him to head back to work when the door opened and the man she had seen earlier, the one with the wild scrubs, walked into the private room. "Walker Family?" She swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat and nodded. He stepped further into the room, letting the door close behind him, turning to make sure it latched even as he introduced himself. Or started to. "I'm Doctor…"

"Erik Vernacke?" Chris interrupted the man and Elaine took a second look. The blond man in the black scrub top sprinkled with little green men, multicolored stars and planets over magenta pants and neon green medical clogs was, indeed, the same Erik Vernacke she had attended Stanford with.

"Chris?" Doctor Vernacke looked up, startled to have been interrupted and twitched when his eyes made contact with hers. "Elaine? You're Walker's family?"

She nodded even as Chris answered for her. "Gary and Elaine married nearly 9 years ago."

"Right about the time I left Pacifica for UCLA, huh? Well, belated congratulations." Erik came over and sat on the small table in front of Elaine and Chris. "Right, now, let's get down to why I came in here in the first place." He reached out and, without asking permission, picked up one of her hands off her lap, which caused her to reach out to Chris with the other. Doctors rarely made physical contact with a patient's family unless the news they were about to impart was dire. "We managed to get Gary stabilized and I have called the best Neurosurgeon on the staff to come in and take over Gary's case. We're replacing the blood and fluids he lost, which will be important before Dr. Basse takes him into surgery."

"Why call a neuro-cutter?" Elaine managed to ask, even though she dreaded the answer.

"Elaine … x-rays show that the bullet is, as you probably know, still inside Gary." She nodded, the lack of an exit wound had been a clue … but bullets did strange things once they entered a human body. "Right. Well, Elaine … the bullet, near as I and the resident diagnostician can tell, is resting right up against Gary's spine at the C-4/C-5 junction."

She inhaled a sharp breath. No wonder he hadn't moved much once he hit the floor.

"Doc … I'm just a cop, like Gary, what are you saying?" Chris asked even as Elaine willed herself to relax and loosened the death grip she had on her brother's hand.

Erik looked at her and Elaine nodded, giving her consent for her brother to be fully informed. "Chris … Gary's body isn't responding to painful stimulus of the lower extremities. I called Dr. Basse in because Gary's wound requires someone truly skilled around the spinal cord to extract, or not extract, the bullet from your brother-in-law."

"He's paralyzed?"

"At this moment, yes."

Elaine gripped her brother's hand again with all her strength, causing him to look at her. "Chris, we have to believe that it's temporary, that the bullet is just putting enough pressure on the spine to temporarily interrupt the way Gary's central nervous system communicates."

Blue eyes a few shades lighter than her own gazed at her, hope flaring. "You really believe that, Sis? That it's just temporary, that Gary's not going to be paralyzed for life?" She nodded. "Hell, you're probably right. When will the neuro doc be here, Doctor Vernacke?"

"He should be here in about half an hour. Gary's not awake or I'd let you two go in to see and talk with him." Elaine felt Erik's gaze take in her bloody appearance. "In the meantime, Elaine, why don't you come with me to the doctor's lounge, get cleaned up and I'll get you a spare set of scrubs to change into?"

She nodded as she released Chris' hand and stood to take Erik up on his offer. "As long as it's a set that doesn't actually assault the optical nerves."

Erik shook his head. "Nope. Plain ol' boring ceil blue surgical scrubs."

"Good." Chris commented, mimicking shading his eyes from Erik's ensemble. "Sis, go get cleaned up. Now that we know Gary's status, I'm going to go update Commander Reynosa and try to get a hold of Mom and Dad."

Elaine went up on her toes and planted a kiss on her brother's cheek. "Thank you, Chris. They're probably down at their beach house in Ensenada."

There was no talk of contacting Gary's folks or family. He had none. Other than the family he'd married into, Gary Walker had no siblings and his parents had passed away before he'd joined the police force in an accident caused by a drunk driver.

Chris bobbed his head even as he reached for the door to the waiting room, opened it for her and Erik, and then disappeared down the hall. Elaine followed his progress just long enough to realize her brother was walking toward a large knot of police uniformed personnel clustered around the central nursing station. The show of support was a welcome sight.

Erik cleared his throat and she looked over at him. "There's a group of about twenty officers, mostly lieutenants and above, waiting on word of Gary's status. From what I hear, there's much larger group of LAPD, LASO, CHiPpies and other law enforcement and fire department personnel lining up outside to give blood here as well as donation centers around the area."

She felt the tears threatening to spill again and had to swallow several times to loosen the tightness in her throat before she could speak. "Gary's been a cop for nearly 17 years. He's probably trained, or worked with, any number of officers from the area. It's nice to know he's well-liked." Elaine managed a slight smile. "I should probably go talk to his commander at least, but not while I'm still wearing potential evidence."

"Right. Let's get you cleaned up." Erik pushed opened one side of a set of double doors at the end of the Trauma hall, which Elaine could now see led directly into Surgery, and showed her into a doctor's lounge between the two areas. "Do you really think you'll need to hand over your clothes as evidence?" He asked. Elaine shrugged. She wasn't sure, but if the cretin who shot her husband somehow survived the bullet SHE put in him, then there was a chance of one of them, maybe both or all three being put on trial. "Okay… I'll have one of the nurses bring in a large evidence bag for you."

He pointed out the shower, the rack filled with neatly folded scrubs, sorted according to size, and another shelf filled with towels and a few 'hygiene' packs containing essentials like soap, shampoo, deodorant, a comb as well as a toothbrush and toothpaste. Erik then left her alone to return to the ER and, presumably, to monitor Gary's condition while waiting for the Neurosurgeon to arrive. Elaine grabbed a couple of towels, a washcloth and one of the hygiene packs, then stepped into the private bathroom and locked the door behind her. It wasn't until she was in the shower, washing her husband's blood from her body that she allowed herself to release her fears in a cascade of tears.


	4. Chapter 4

See Disclaimer in Part One

**Part Four**

"Dr. Walker?" Colby came into the waiting room with mug shot books in hand.

"What?" Elaine snapped, then immediately regretted it when she saw who had addressed her. "Sorry, Agent Granger. It's not been a good day, as you probably know."

"Yes, ma'am." Colby sat down opposite her. She looked like hell and little wonder why. "How is Lieutenant Walker?"

"Still in surgery, but mostly stable." Her eyes kept darting back to the doors leading to the surgical suite.

Colby nodded. "I know this is not the best time to ask but could you look through these mug books and see if you can't spot the scum that did this?" He balanced the books on one knee.

Elaine looked at the young FBI Agent, not quite believing what he was asking her, but also understanding why he had to. "Can you leave them here? I'll look through them as soon as Gary's moved into Recovery. Or do you need a possible ID sooner?"

Colby winced and hated himself for what he said next. "We need an ID, even a tentative one, as soon as possible, Doc."

She didn't say anything. Just nodded her head, then reached out for the first book, which Colby placed in her open hands. Elaine placed the oversized photo album in her lap and opened the cover. She was able to skip over the first few pages with ease, the men who had robbed the store and shot her Gary weren't black, nor were they Asian or Hispanic.

Every time she saw a white male face looking out from the pages, she would stop and study the photo. Soon she was reaching for the second book, trying to ignore the incessant ticking of the clock on the wall behind her.

Three-quarters of the way through the second book, she spotted a familiar face. "This one, Granger. He's the one that didn't shoot Gary."

Colby's brow wrinkled in confusion. "_Didn't_ shoot...?"

He took the book back and looked down at the picture Dr. Walker had pointed to.

"Yeah, _did not._ I will probably never forget that man's face." Her voice turned cold. "And Lord help him if I ever meet him on the street."

"So, he's the accomplice?" Colby asked, studying the face. White male, early to mid-twenties, dark brown, almost black hair, brown eyes, round face, a small scar running from just under his left eye over to his ear.

"Yes, one of them at least." She reached for the book again, determined to finish before the surgeon, her colleague Jon Basse, the best neuro guy Elaine knew - which is why she recruited him from John Hopkins years ago to work at City of Angels Clinic, finished up with Gary.

Colby handed the book back.

Elaine flipped through the last few pages of that book, not finding the face of the asshole that shot Gary, and handed that book back to Colby in exchange for the last one on his lap.

He handed it to her, making a notation of the picture number of the accomplice, in the book she handed back.

Elaine had gotten only a few pages into the third book when her heart leaped in her chest and she sucked in a sharp breath.

"Doctor Walker?" Colby asked, a little alarmed at the look on her face.

She looked at the photo closer, hoping for some sort of name or other identifier on the page so she could hunt the bastard down but Colby reached out and put his hands over the pages, obscuring her ability to search for the information she wanted, nay, she needed. She snarled at him and ripped the book out from under his hands. "Back off, Agent."

Colby swallowed. "Dr. Walker, I need you to hand me the book back."

She flipped the book around so she could show him the photo, "Who is he?" The man staring out from the page was maybe in his mid to late 30's, white and his dark blue eyes were empty. Just like they'd been when he'd pulled the trigger on the gun that damn near killed her husband.

Colby's eyes flicked over the man's features. Something stirred in the back of his mind, there was something there that was ringing a bell but he didn't know what. He looked up into Dr. Walker's eyes, saw the pain and frustration there and wished he did know, so he could tell her. "Ma'am, I don't know. But now that you've ID'ed the guy, we have something to work with. We'll find him."

"You just find him and when you do, I want to know. Gary seemed to recognize him, but--" She didn't finish. The doors to the surgical suites opened up and the one person she'd been waiting for finally came out and walked over toward her. "Jon? How is he?"

The surgeon smiled and held out his arms to her. "He's going to be just fine, Elaine. He came through the surgery with flying colors. You married one tough sonovabitch." She came over, leaned against him and he hugged her, nodding toward Colby. "Friend of the family?" He asked.

Colby stood. "Special Agent Colby Granger, FBI. I came to see if Doctor Walker could identify the shooter and she did."

"Jon Basse. Elaine? Why don't you go sit with Gary?" He let go of Elaine and waited until she disappeared behind the doors before pulling a small plastic container from his pants pocket. "I'm guessing you might want this."

Colby held out his hand and was a little surprised when he was handed a screw-top jar holding the bullet that had just been in Gary Walker. "Yes, this will help a lot, Doc." He paused for a moment, then added. "The Lieutenant's really going to be all right?"

Dr. Basse tilted his head to one side. "I wouldn't lie to colleague, Agent Granger. He's going to have a fairly long recovery, but he's got one of the best people to help nurse him through it, if she doesn't kill him herself first."

Colby swallowed the laugh that almost came out.

He collected the mug shot books and turned to leave. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome, Agent. Just go catch the asshole that hurt Elaine like that."

Colby nodded. "Yes, sir."

He left the room only to run into a man dressed in LAPD SWAT gear going into the room he had just left. A fast glance at the uniform, the insignia on the lapels and the nametape gave the man's name and rank. "Lieutenant Donovan?"

The man turned and looked at him. "Do I know you?" Cool blue eyes regarded him.

"Agent Colby Granger, FBI. We've been asked to look into Lieutenant Walker's shooting."

Donovan nodded and glanced down at the books in Colby's hands. "Elaine look through those already?"

Surprised, Colby asked, "You know the Lieutenant's wife?"

"All my life." Colby scrunched up his face, which must have struck the lieutenant funny because he laughed. "Oh lord . . . Elaine chewed up and spit out a Fed? Sorry about that. My sister has one hell of a an Irish temper."

Then the light bulb went on in Colby's head. "Sister?"

"Yeah, older sister . . . by 15 minutes. Christopher Donovan." He held out his hand.

"Uh, nice to meet you, Lieutenant." Colby shook his hand. Now that he was taking a closer look at the man, he could see the close resemblance to Doctor Walker. "Elaine went to sit with Gary . . . he's out of surgery now . . . and I need to get her photo identification of the shooter and one of the other perps back to the team."

"Was the surgeon able to get the bullet?" Even to Colby's ears, Lieutenant Donovan sounded concerned about his brother-in-law.

"Yes, sir, I have it right here." He showed the container to the lieutenant. "I'll get it to the lab ASAP and, should we find the son of a bitch who shot Walker, we'll be able to nail his worthless hide to the wall."

Donovan let out a relieved breath. "Thank you." He whispered to no one in particular. "Agent . . . you know my sister shot the SOB, right?"

Colby's eyebrows went up. "I'd heard something about that, but I didn't ask her . . . is it true?"

The lieutenant nodded. "She used Gary's weapon."

"I am never going to piss off Doctor Walker ever. . . "

Donovan snickered. "She's really a sweet person, honest, but get her riled--"

"I've been witness to that, not something I want to personally experience, thank you very much. Where did she shoot him?"

Donovan wandered deeper into the room, automatically seeking out a quite area to impart the information. "Gut shot, she was aiming for the chest, but Gary's got his off duty carry set up with a New York trigger and it threw her aim off."

Colby nodded. "Nine plus pounds of pressure on a trigger when you're not expecting it can affect your aim." He thought about the wound, "Gut shot, huh?"

"Yup."

"He's dead or dying somewhere. Makes it easier to find him." Colby looked the Lieutenant in the eyes that were so much like his sister's. "Donovan, you want me to ask the Prosecutor's office if Elaine's going to face possible charges if the perp croaks?"

"Would you?"

"Sure."

"Thanks. One less worry for Dad and Mom when they get back up here from Mexico."

"Hell of a way to come back from a vacation."

"Yeah, well, Gary's like the other son they never had. Mom pretty much told Elaine that if - for some reason - she divorced Gary they were keeping him and disowning her."

Colby laughed. "Guess they like their son-in-law."

"We all do, Agent Granger."

"And we are going to do everything we can to find the bastard that did this. You have my word on that."

Lieutenant Donovan shook Colby's hand. "Thank you, Agent. Thank you."

"My pleasure."

"Chris!" Elaine Walker's voice cut across the waiting room and Colby turned to see her walking across the floor at a quick pace. "Did you get a hold of Mom and Dad?"

"Yes, Sis. They're on their way. Dad is driving." He gestured to Colby. "I was just talking with Agent Granger here before he runs off to find Gary's shooter."

Colby took that as his cue to get the heck out of Dodge. "Lieutenant Donovan, Doctor Walker, I'd better get back to the office. Our best to Gary." With a polite nod, he left the room. He had to get the information to the team and the Prosecutor's office. If Elaine was brought up on charges, he'd be damned if some piece of evidence would be dismissed because of him.

* * *

Donnie was asleep for the moment and Charlie was still at work, giving Alan a moment to sit. Donnie had never been a good patient; from the time he was old enough to walk, up to the present. He refused to stay in bed and rest. As a much younger man, Alan had been able to keep up with his active son, just barely. Nowadays, he didn't even try. He used parental guilt instead. Worked almost as well.

He eased into his favorite armchair, blew out a sigh and picked up the TV remote. "Let's see what's on the news."

The television came to life, showing a youngish woman seated next to an older man at a desk with a picture of the skyline of Los Angeles behind them. A graphic of a generic building with a crime scene tape across it appeared in a corner of the screen next to woman.

"_And in local news, an off-duty LAPD lieutenant became the latest victim in a string of jewelry store robberies, shot while…_"

The woman disappeared from the screen as Alan hit the 'off' button on the remote. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered. From upstairs, he heard the floorboards creak in front of his eldest's room. "Donnie?"

"I'm using the bathroom. Is that all right?" Don's voice, tinged with annoyance, drifted from upstairs.

"Fine, fine…you want anything to eat?" Alan called back.

"No, I'm not…" Coughing interrupted Don's sentence.

"Okay." Alan replied. He got to his feet and walked toward the kitchen. Donnie might not be hungry now but he was. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to start another pot of soup, homemade, of course, with that miracle food, chicken, in it.

* * *

The next morning, Don was so miserable that had he the energy, he would've put himself out of his misery. However, that would have required actual physical movement and he just didn't have that in him right then. He had just enough energy to lie there and not move, at all.

"Donnie?" Alan knocked on the doorframe. "How are you feeling?" He came in and laid a hand on his son's forehead, shaking his head, as he removed his hand. "I'm going to take a shower. When I get out, I'm getting you some soup. You need to eat. Would you like the radio on?"

There was a small radio in the bedroom near the nightstand. At Don's nod, Alan switched it on and left the room. A few moments later, the sound of running water could be heard over the chatter on the radio.

Don wasn't much for talk radio. He didn't really have the time or inclination to listen to people talking about things other than baseball but he had asked, so he was stuck with what ever was on the dial.

"_All right, folks...we've reached the end of another hour of exciting and excellent radio commentary. When we return, we'll jump right into our ever-patient callers. Back in a few._" The talk host's voice was then replaced by a woman's voice. "_You're listening to KIDC Talk Radio 610 AM. Topping the news at this hour, the search continues for the person or persons responsible for the armed robbery of Hauer's Fine Jewelry and the shooting of L.A.P.D. Lieutenant Gary Walker. The Lieutenant is listed in serious condition and is being treated at an undisclosed area hospital._"

At the mention of Walker's name, Don sat straight up in bed. //_Gary was shot? WTF? No one told me!_//

Despite his pounding head and protesting muscles, Don pushed the covers back and slid from the bed. It took him a moment to get his feet under him and then another moment to realize he had no cell phone. That meant he had to use a landline if he was going to call anyone.

A glance around the room showed that either his father or Charlie had been through and removed the phone that he knew had been there a couple of weeks ago. That meant using the phone in his father's room or Charlie's room. Cursing Megan under his breath, he staggered to his feet and made his slow way across the bedroom, out the door and into Charlie's room. All the while keeping an ear out for the shower to stop.

//_Serves you right, Chuck._// Don thought, sinking onto his brother's bed. //_I oughta breathe all over your stuff._// It took him a moment to actually remember David's cell phone number, on his cell it was speed dial number 3. He dialed and waited.

"_Sinclair._"

"David...what's this I hear on the radio about Gary Walker being shot?" Don asked lying down on Charlie's bed.

"_Uh, Don ... are you sure you want to hear this? I mean, are you well enough?_" David did not sound that happy to be talking to his boss.

Don held the phone away from him as a toe curling cough shook him.

"David..." He started to say when he could breathe again. He was in little mood to argue with a junior agent about what he could and could not handle.

"_Look, Don, we've got a handle on it. The Lieutenant is at UCLA Med Center and he's going to be all right. His wife shot the perp in self-defense and our team is handling the investigation for LAPD as a favor. All right?_""Elaine shot someone?! Where?! When?!" Don's voice turned into a squeak as his vocal cords protested.

"_Yesterday. She and Gary were at the wrong place at the wrong time and, well, Gary ended up shot and Elaine, in turn, shot the SOB who shot her husband._"

Don's mouth hung open. It had never occurred to him that Elaine knew how to use a gun. It probably should have but it never had. "Where were they? And was this before or after I got kicked out?"

David let out a sigh. "_They were at Hauer's Fine Jewelry on Broadway yesterday afternoon around 2:00 PM - I've heard they were there to pick up an anniversary present. So, yes, this would've been right after I dropped you off there at the house._"

Don coughed and coughed again. It hurt when he coughed but he ignored it."_Man, you still sound like shyte. Shouldn't you be in bed?_"

"I'll be fine." Don wheezed. "You said Gary'll be okay? What about Elaine? Who's been down to talk to her?"

"_From what I heard from Colby – yeah, Walker'll be fine. He was there at the hospital when Elaine heard from the neurosurgeon._"

"Colby got sent to talk to her? Did he come back with all his fingers and toes?" Don asked, only half-joking. He felt so bad, he completely missed the mention of the neurosurgeon."_Barely. Elaine was able to not only ID the man who shot Gary, but also one of the others involved in the heist._"

"She did? Great..." Don would have said more but another bout of coughing interrupted him. Damn, he felt like crap.

"_Don, I gotta go. Take care of yourself and keep your germy-ness away from me until you're past this contagious stage, will ya?_"

"Whatever...Has anyone gotten a statement from Gary yet?" Don asked, determined to not be shuffled off to the side simply because he had a cold.

"_Not yet - last we heard he was still under sedation. Hey, if you want to send him a note or a plant or something, he's in ICU, Room 8_."

"Okay, thanks for the update." Don hung up, already plotting in his mind, how to get down there and talk to Gary himself. In that moment, he heard the shower cut off and knew he had roughly a minute, maybe a little more, to get back into his own bed before his father came out of the bathroom. He made it, with seconds to spare. He had just pulled the covers up when his father appeared in the doorway, towel around his neck.

Alan came in and felt Don's forehead again. He did not look happy. "Donnie, if your fever doesn't go down by this afternoon, I'm taking you to the Urgent Care Center on Fair Street. You don't need this turning into pneumonia."

Don nodded. "Whatever, Dad." A vigorous bout of coughing racked his frame, leaving him red-faced, sweating and exhausted.

Alan shook his head. "I'll go get you the soup. Drinking something might calm things down a bit."

After his father was gone, Don got to serious thinking on how to get to UCLA. He came to two conclusions. One, he needed to get his father out of the way. And two, he needed transportation. Cursing again at Megan under his breath, he ran through a list of taxicab companies in the area. Glendale Livery came to mind. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them. No one was going to keep him from an investigation. No one.


	5. Chapter 5

See Disclaimer in Part One

**Part Five**

Getting to the hospital was the easy part, Don realized later, especially since his father had made Don's getaway from the house easier by leaving himself to attend a client meeting. Getting past Elaine Walker to talk to her husband was not. He had almost made it to the doorway when she appeared, almost as if by magic.

She took one look at him and held out her hand, stopping him. "Just what did you think you were doing, Eppes? Coming down here when you're obviously ill? Get out of here before you infect a patient, a staff member or end up in a bed here yourself." She ended with a glare at him.

"I'll be fine." Don argued with her. Why couldn't anyone understand that a cold wasn't going to stop him from working?

"Right ... why are you here anyway?" She eyed him, not moving an inch from the doorway.

"I came to get Gary's statement. How is he doing?" Don swallowed and tried not to cough any more in Elaine's presence but he failed, miserably.

Before he could guess at what she was doing, Elaine had reached out and laid a hand along his jaw line, then snatched it back in a hurry. "Hell no. You're running a temp of at least 101º - I'll eat my medical license if you're not - so there is absolutely no way in hell I'm letting you within ten feet of Gary. He's post-op, his immune system is having a hard enough time dealing with his injuries without you breathing bugs all over him. Go home, Don."

"I've got a job to do Elaine, it can't wait until I'm not sick." Don said.

"At this moment, your only job is to get well. Send someone else from your team to talk with Gary. Sinclair, Granger, Reeves or, hell, even the Assistant Director for all I care. But you - Don Eppes - are NOT talking to Gary nor are you getting near him. Not while I'm still breathing."

Don refused to move and so did Elaine. They stood there looking at each other.

"You've got two choices, Eppes." Elaine finally said. "You can either do the intelligent thing and go home. Or I can have someone take you down to the ER and have you admitted."

A security guard drifted past right then. He took in the tableau of Don and Elaine and stopped. "You need some help, Dr. Walker?" he asked.

Elaine cut her eyes to the guard, then back to Don. "No, Joe. Agent Eppes is going to listen to reason and go home. Aren't you, Agent Eppes?"

Don eyed the guard. Taller than Colby but skinnier. He swallowed. He hardly had the energy to argue with Elaine, let alone someone else.

"You either go or I'll get Joe to escort you to the ER. I'll let them know they've got a hot one coming." Elaine told him.

"Fine." He muttered. "Tell Gary I'm pulling for him." He turned and walked back to the elevator. In the elevator, he reached for his cell phone, then remembered that Megan had confiscated it. Curing her under his breath yet again, he had to think about where he could get a phone to use without having to go home. He wasn't about to use a pay phone that would be just plain embarrassing.

He walked out into the sunny L.A. morning, still undecided on what to do. Then a small smiled crossed his face. The Federal building was less than a mile from the hospital. He could send an e-mail from there and then head for Charlie's and no one would be the wiser.

* * *

_**Beep**_

The incoming e-mail alert sounded on Megan Reeves' computer, drawing her attention from the witness statements collected by David and the L.A.P.D at Hauer's Fine Jewelry. She looked at the computer and clicked on the e-mail icon.

TO: Reeves, Megan

FROM: Eppes, Don

Re: Walker interview?

Megan, anyone been to talk to Gary and get his witness statement?

Don

She read the e-mail again, noting the date and time, a momentary burst of annoyance surging through her. What was Don doing? Didn't he trust her and the rest of the team to do their jobs?

_'This is Don you're talking about.' _A little voice whispered in her ear. She sighed. Of course, he didn't trust her. He didn't trust anyone. Well, that wasn't quite true but Don Eppes was a classic Type A control freak.

She looked at the e-mail a third time, taking a closer look at the routing information at the bottom of the page, a frown crossing her face. "Damn it." she muttered, "What is wrong with that man?"

She locked down her computer and stood, heading for the elevator but at the last moment, took the stairs. The elevator might take too long. All the way down, she muttered and cussed at her boss. Fortunately, not too many people were in the stairwell with her, so there were few witnesses to her mood. She stepped off the elevator on the second floor and went straight to the 'Visiting Agents' room where she beheld her boss, coughing and sneezing and spreading his germs all over the computer he was using.

She shook her head. "Don T. Eppes, just what the Hell are you doing here?"

Don's head snapped up so fast, she thought he might have gotten whiplash. A dark flush spread across his face when he saw her.

"You got my e-mail already?" He asked, obviously surprised.

"The next time you send me an e-mail don't do it from inside the building." She came over to the computer he sat at but didn't get too close. "So, how many people have you infected now?" She asked brightly.

"It's just a cold." He muttered, scowling.

Megan started to tap her foot on the tile flooring. "Right. That's why I fielded a phone call from an irate, and oddly concerned, Doctor Elaine Walker. Because you 'just have a cold'."

"She didn't." He said, trying not to cough.

She pointed at finger at her own face. "Do I look like I'm in the mood to lie to you?""Elaine didn't have to do that." He muttered, shrinking down in the chair.

Megan aimed a look at the one other agent hiding in the room and, without saying a word, got him to flee. She closed the door behind the departing agent, locked it, then sat down across the aisle from her very sick boss. "Don, if she hadn't, I would've assumed you were being 'responsible' and had decided to go back to Pasadena to heal rather than driving down here to hop on the first accessible computer you could find."

"I've got a job to do." He hunched his shoulders and coughed, loudly.

"No - _**I**_ have a job to do. You're on sick leave, remember? Or don't you trust me?"

Don turned the most becoming shade of red, again. "Of course, I trust you."

"Then prove it." She pointed toward the locked door, "Leave now, go back to Charlie's and stop sidetracking me from doing the job you _trust_ me to handle."

He looked at her. "That would require physical movement. You'll have to give me a moment. Has anyone taken Gary's statement?"

Megan shook her head in disbelief. "About 8 minutes after Elaine kicked your butt out of ICU - Granger was there to talk with Gary. Which is how I got the call from her on my cell instead of the in-house line. Colby gave her his cell to use." She looked at him, trying to see if he could handle what she was going to say next. "We covered your sick butt this time, Eppes. Next time? We'll let the complaining phone call get recorded and sent to Wright."

He turned pale and swallowed but didn't respond immediately. His throat hurt too much to talk.

After a few moments of silence, Megan spoke up again. "Do I need to get someone to come get you, or can you make it home on your own?" She paused, suddenly curious. "Wait a minute ... how in the hell did you get here anyway?"

He grinned. "Taxis are a great thing."

"Oh that's just great, Eppes. We're supposed to protect the public, not infect it!"

"I didn't breathe on anyone!" He croaked in protest, another cough rattling his frame.

"Don," Megan stared at him, "did you even pass your field class in first responders and biological contaminates?"

"Um ... yeah, I think I did."

"Okay - think of yourself as a biological threat and think about what you did by getting in - what? Two taxis?"

"One." Don said. "I got him to wait."

"Oh, lucky him! You've certainly infected him by now then." She cocked her head to the side. "Did you, by chance, have him wait outside again?"

"I covered my mouth and nose." Don continued to protest. "I did."

"The entire time? With a surgical mask? Or just when you coughed, sneezed or otherwise spewed germs all over the back of his hack?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Yes, the entire time."

"Where's your mask then?" Megan made it a point to actually scan his person with her eyes in the most raking manner.

"I didn't say I used a mask." He propped his chin on his hand. Lord, he was tired.

Leaning up on her hip, Megan reached into a back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and tossed it at him. "There. Use that as a mask and go home, Don. I need to call custodial services and get them in here to decontaminate this room before your germs spread any further."

Don picked up the handkerchief and scowled at her. "If you hadn't taken my cell phone, I wouldn't have had to come here." He pushed back from the computer and stood. "I don't have the plague."

"No, you have the flu - which, as you know, can be just as deadly as bubonic plague."

She got up, moved past Don and unlocked the door even as she picked up the courtesy phone and got ready to dial the custodial folks.

Don walked past her, muttering something unkind.

Megan shook her head and called out after him. "Don, it's not my fault your immune system is weak." She dialed the phone as she muttered under her breath, "Thank goodness my system kicks some serious ass and I got my flu shot weeks ago."

* * *

Don made it back to Charlie's before his father returned but only just. He staggered up the stairs, stripped off his suit jacket, tie and pants before crawling back into bed and pulling the covers up over himself. God, he felt like death walking. He lay there staring up at the ceiling, wondering if he had enough energy to retrieve his gun and put himself out his misery. He decided he didn't.

A few minutes later he heard the front door open and shut and heard his father clomping up the stairs. At least, his father hadn't caught him. That was a blessing. He heard his father pause at the doorway, then come into the room.

"Donnie, did your feet get cold or something?" Alan looked down at his eldest.

"Uh, no?" Don peered over the covers at his father.

"Then why are you wearing your socks?"

"Well, they were a little a cold, I guess."

"Uh-huh ... and you just forgot that you'd put socks on?" Alan looked at the clad feet poking out from under the covers. "And that you used your dress socks to boot?"

"Socks are socks, Dad." Don said, mentally cursing himself. He thought he'd gotten out of most of his work clothes.

"But wouldn't it have been better to put on a thicker pair if your feet were really cold?" Alan asked.

"Dad, if I had the energy to find thicker socks I would've." Don said, trying not to cough but not succeeding.

That prompted Alan to walk over to the chest of drawers, pull open the top drawer and - after digging for less than a second - tossed a nice, thick pair of athletic style socks at his eldest. "There, now give me your dress socks and that dress shirt you're still wearing, and the undershirt while you're at it, so I can get them washed up," Before Don could protest, Alan reached into another drawer and soon tossed him a pair of sweatpants and an old tie-died shirt. "Now you won't catch cold."

"Okay." Don struggled out of his work clothes and handed them over to his father.

Alan looked at Don, the disapproval showing clearly in his eyes. "I'm going to pretend to be totally in the dark here, Donnie, but I have to tell you - going out in the public when you're as sick as you are ... I thought your mother and I raised you better."

Don couldn't quite bring himself to look his father in the eye. "I've got a job to do, Dad."

"Which, if I'm not mistaken, Megan is doing for you while you concentrate on getting well?"

Don didn't respond. What could he say? So, instead, he started coughing, again. It hurt every time he coughed and the more he coughed, the more it hurt but he couldn't stop coughing.

"Right - soup time. It won't take long for me to heat it up. You get changed and come downstairs when you're ready." Alan left, his arms full of discarded clothing and Don sat, nearly naked, on the edge of the bed trying to get his cough under control and to find the energy to get dressed in the sweats and optically loud tee his father had handed him.

It took Don far longer than he thought it would to pull on the pair of sweats and the t-shirt and then stagger downstairs but, somehow, he managed.

He sank down at the table and put his head in his hands.

A glass of orange juice appeared before him, along with a couple of aspirin, without his father saying a single word.

Within moments of taking the simple medication, Alan set a large steaming bowl of soup in front of him, along with a sleeve of crackers.

Don sat there, inhaling the steam. "Thanks, Dad." He mumbled.

"You're welcome. Now eat it don't just inhale it."

"Yes, sir."

Alan sat down at the table, across from Don to try to limit his exposure to whatever germs his son was cooking up, and sipped on a mug of coffee, before asking the one question that'd been eating at him since he came home to find the front door unlocked, not to mention unlatched. "So ... Donnie ... what the heck was so damned important that you had to drag your butt out of your bed to do it?"

Don focused on the soup. He was saved from answering by his baby brother's arrival home from CalSci.

"Dad?!" Charlie's voice could be heard from the living room.

"In the kitchen!" Alan said.

The swinging door swung open and Charlie came into the kitchen. He looked at Don, then over at his father and said, "What did Don do this time?"

Don didn't even have the strength to protest that remark, he just kept playing with his soup, adding more saltines to it and stirring them in.

Charlie watched his brother. "You gonna eat the soup or just play with it?"

"Why? _-cough-_ You want it?"

"Not after you barked all over it." Charlie looked at his father. "What did he do this time?"

"He hasn't told me, but I came home to find someone had left the front door unlocked and half-open and that same someone was still wearing his FBI clothing."

Charlie's eyebrows went up. "That's a new one." He went over to the refrigerator and took a bottle of juice from it. Coming back to the table, he slid an empty chair over next to his father and sat down. "That might explain the tie-died shirt ... you usually made me wear that only when I'd displeased you, Pop."

Alan shrugged. "Actually, I didn't mean it that way - it just happened to be handy when I found Donnie upstairs."

Charlie nodded and sipped his juice. After a moment or two, he asked, "How many people did you infect today?"

Don dropped the spoon onto the table and let out a sigh as he pushed away from the nearly empty bowl of soup. "I didn't infect anyone. It's not the flu. Dad, thanks for the soup, I'm going to go crawl back upstairs and hibernate for a while."

"All right, the more you sleep, the better you'll feel."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me." Don waved to his family as he pushed his way through the heavier than normal kitchen door. He'd made it about halfway up the stairs when his leaden legs refused to go any further and he sat down on the steps.

Charlie found him there a few minutes later and, within seconds, had helped Don regain his feet and was hauling him the rest of the way. "Come on, Don. Lean on me, you ain't that heavy."

"Thanks, Chu-- Charlie."

"Hey, you are sick!" Charlie joked. He pushed open the door to his brother's old room and helped Don get settled on the bed. "You actually made it further than I thought you would, so maybe you'll be better tomorrow?"

Don lay back on the bed and let Charlie pull the covers up over him. "Sure. It's not like I've got the flu."

"You hope! Half the student population is out with something and it's making its way through CalSci's staff now." Charlie disappeared for a minute, then came back with the old 'Sick Person's' water carafe and cup from wherever it was stored. "Here. The water'll be room temp soon, but even that will help when the coughing gets bad."

Don nodded. "I know it's not the flu. It can't be. I've got too much to do."

"Like influenza cares about such things." Charlie lowered the blinds and pulled the curtains shut to block out the late afternoon sun. "You just sleep yourself out, okay? I've got papers to get graded and posted so I'll be up for a while tonight if you need anything."

"'Kay." Don said, rolling onto his side and drifting off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

See Disclaimer in Part One

**Part Six**

Granger cursed his reputation as he sat through yet another round of surveillance video from yet one more store in the area of Hauer's Fine Jewelry store in hopes of finding something, anything, that might lead the team to the person responsible for shooting Lieutenant Gary Walker.

The description and photo ID they'd gotten off Doctor Walker was great. The shooter had been identified as one Joel Veltre. But as Veltre hadn't popped up on any of the sweeps in his old neighborhood, Colby wasn't holding out good thoughts for the man's continued survival. For one thing, Doc Walker, Elaine, was pretty damn sure she'd nailed the man in the guts and if that didn't kill him, there was a chance his fellow thieves would. No one wanted dead weight slowing their escape down and that's just what a gut-shot person was if they didn't get immediate medical attention.

Dead weight.

Sitting back in the not-exactly comfortable chair, Colby rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes, then realizing he'd missed more than a few seconds of film, leaned forward and rewound the footage. Someone knocked on the doorframe behind him and he turned to see David Sinclair walk into the room, just as Colby's stomach let out a might rumble.

"Well, that answered that. You want me to pick something up for you, Colby?"

He shook his head and once again reached out to the control console in front of him, this time to stop the footage and turn off the machine. "Nah, I need a break. Let's go find a nice fast-food joint and then see what we can see around where Walker was shot."

"'Nice fast-food?' I don't know about you, but I have yet to find very many places around this part of LA that would fit that description, Granger." David teased as they walked back into the bullpen.

Colby scribbled a fast note on a post-it, sticking it to Megan's monitor since the senior agent wasn't around to be told in person, and then gathered his jacket from his desk and the keys to the department-issued sedan he'd been assigned while his personal vehicle was in the shop for routine maintenance. "It's just that I'm hungry for anything and, well, would you believe I've got a craving for a 7-layer burrito?" He asked David as they walked to the elevators.

"I buy that you're hungry but … a 7-layer burrito? Didn't your mother raise you better than that?"

"Yeah, she did. Which is why I'll probably confess to eating junk food when I call home this weekend and willingly listen as she chews me out for 'neglecting' my body." They'd reached the parking garage and, by unspoken agreement, piled into Colby's Departmental Dodge Charger.

* * *

David had just finished his third soft taco as he and Colby drove around the 10-block area centered on the jewelry store where Lieutenant Walker had been shot. "Have you checked with LAPD recently about Walker?" He asked of Colby as the other drove back toward the FBI building after having finished his burrito.

"Yeah, he's '_doing as well as can be expected_,' whatever the hell that means."

David nodded his head. All too often, especially in cases like this, the medical establishment would use terms that were meant to soothe the tempers of the friends of the victim under their care, but it usually just confused them. He tried not to think about the one time he'd called the hospital, after Colby had been pulled off the Chinese freighter, in hopes of hearing good news only to be told that there was no Agent Granger listed as a patient.

He wasn't paying attention to the passing scenery and was, therefore, surprised and shocked when Colby suddenly made an illegal, and way too fast for David's comfort, U-Turn in the middle of Broadway.

"What the hell!?"

The Dodge jumped a curb hard, bounced into an empty lot and then skidded to a stop on loose soil before David realized what had prompted Colby's reaction. In the back of the lot, sitting with its tail end toward the street, was an older model Ford LTD that was a decent match to the potential getaway car from Hauer's. David called in their location, what they had and then, without a word to Colby, the two of them exited the Dodge at the same time, both pulling their sidearms as they slowly approached the vehicle in question.

Cautiously David peered into the backseat of the old sedan as he got up to where he could look in, and then shook his head. Nothing. No bodies in the backseat area. Colby nodded and the two of them inched up a little further when David raised his hand in a fist suddenly in the signal for 'stop'. Once he was sure he had Colby's undivided attention, he pointed at the passenger side's front seat and held up one finger then made a 'non-responsive' motion – all the while keeping his gun trained on the body slumped over in the front seat.

Once again, Granger nodded in agreement, then moved up a little further on his side of the car to cover the suspect better with his Springfield while David moved up to pop the door open.

"FBI! Don't move!"

But the body didn't obey and flopped out of the seat, landing with a great amount of bodily fluids and a hollow-sounding 'thud' on the ground – spraying David's freshly laundered slacks with blood and, he hated to think about it, other juices.

"Damn!" David hopped back even as Colby came flying around the front end of the car, or did he slide across in a Dukes of Hazzard move? David would be hard pressed to testify in court on that. Anyway, Colby was there, gun in one hand, the other reaching for the perp's neck for a pulse even as he squatted down in the rapidly spreading pool of liquids slowly seeping into the parched earth.

"David! David, call a 'bus, I've got a damn pulse!" Colby put away his gun and, without thinking too much about it, ripped open the perp's shirt and plunged his hands into the still oozing wound. As he applied pressure, the man let out a moan and David's gun came back up to cover his partner, but that was all the guy on the ground did. "David, get an ambulance here and then grab the first aid kit out of the car. NOW!"

David shook off the shock and ran back to the Dodge while calling dispatch on his hand radio and requesting both an ambulance and a Crime Scene Team. David got back to Colby just after Central advised of a 3-minute ETA on the medic. He went to hand the first aid kit to Colby, then realized the former medic couldn't take it as he was up to his wrists in … David didn't want to think about it. "What do you need out of here, Granger?"

"The largest pressure bandage you can find. Barring that, see if there's a damn Kotex pad in there. What's the ETA on the 'bus?"

"Three minutes." David handed Colby the requested item, then looked down at his own slacks. "Damn it, I just got these back from the laundry last night."

"Don't feel so bad, I'm probably going to have to toss mine after this." Colby said. David watched as he worked at a furious pace to place the bandage over the wound and reapplied pressure. "Oh, crap."

"What?" David asked, not liking the tone of his partner's voice. "What's wrong, Colby?"

"One of us is going to have to escort this turkey to the hospital and, since I seem to have my hands on his guts … guess I just got volunteered."

David smiled wryly at his friend. "Yeah, well, next time don't be so quick to plunge your hands into a bleeding wound."

"David? Where are the keys to the car?" Colby asked in a sickening sweet voice.

"Uh, you left them in the ignition, right?"

"Nope."

"Your jacket pocket?" He didn't like where this was probably heading.

"Nope." The sound of sirens in the distance were slowly growing closer, but not fast enough.

"Aw crap. Really? Granger!"

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly thinking we were going to find a bleeding body, okay?"

One of the many things taught to FBI recruits in defensive and offensive driving courses at Quantico was how, upon exiting a vehicle when approaching a potentially 'hot' scene, you were to remove the keys of your vehicle and put them in a pocket. Most officers would toss them into a jacket pocket but a few – and Granger was clearly one of those – would slip the keys into their pants pockets. Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, there wasn't much either man cold do at the moment about the key situation, not with Granger kneeling on the ground holding Joel Veltre's guts in.

Both were happy when the ambulance bounded into the vacant lot, but for different reasons. David had returned to the Dodge and popped the truck, grabbing both bottles of alcohol-based antibacterial rinse in hopes that his partner would be able to rinse off and hand him the keys from his pockets. The responding paramedic had other ideas. He didn't want Granger letting go of the patient's stomach wound, for fear of the man actually, and finally, bleeding out. Which meant David had to grab the keys out of Colby's pocket himself.

"More to the left, David! I like you, but not that damn much!" Colby complained as David tried to find the keys.

"Hey, it's not my fault you're a righty!" David finally snagged a set of keys out of the front pocket of his friend's slacks, only to pull them out and realize there were two sets in his hand. "Which … ah, never mind." He gingerly pulled the seam of the pocket away from Colby's hip and dropped the man's house keys back into the pocket. "Have fun!"

"Yeah, right. Damn ingrained instincts…" Colby groused as he moved with the gurney as the medics loaded Veltre into the treatment bay of their ambulance. They pulled out of the lot, leaving David alone with the Ford LTD, and its floorboard of drying blood and buzzing insects, to await the arrival of the CST crew and the wrecker he had called for after having given Colby the wholly inadequate first aid kit.

The feel of stiffening material slapping against his legs in the slight breeze of the afternoon made David look down at his slacks again and bitch, once more, "I just picked these up from the cleaners too. Damn it."


	7. Chapter 7

See Disclaimer in Part One

**Part Seven**

Much to his father's surprise, Don was up at the next morning, making himself breakfast, oatmeal and scrambled eggs.

Feeling better, I see." Alan said, walking into the kitchen.

"Much. I told you it was just a cold." Don replied. He transferred the scrambled eggs from the frying pan to a waiting plate. He turned off the burner, set the pan in the sink and ran some water into it. "So, are you going to give me my clothes and let me go back to work?"

Alan sighed. Donnie had a very _selective_ memory when it came to his own health. He simply had no recollection of just how sick he had gotten, on occasion, as a kid. Nor did he remember all the times when he'd feel great and think he was over the crud, only to relapse a few hours later. "Donnie, humor me today, will ya? Stay here, just until this evening and then, if you really are feeling better, you can go do whatever you have to, all right?"

Don frowned but did not answer. He put his breakfast on the kitchen table and sat down to eat. Alan took Don's silence as acquiescence and set about gathering the few things he'd have to take with him to the second meeting with his and Stan's newest client later that morning.

Don watched his father while he ate. "A meeting with Stan?"

Alan nodded. "Second meeting actually."

Don smiled. "Then it's a good thing this is just a cold. You don't have to be stuck here with me. Stan would appreciate that, I think."

"Actually, Stan could probably handle this meeting without me but, as you pointed out, you're feeling better so I don't have to stay here and sit on you." Alan smiled at his son.

"I told you it was just a cold." Don responded.

"Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that." Alan muttered under his breath. "Yeah," he said in a normal voice, "you're right. Now, you have my cell number should you need anything. I really need to get moving if Stan and I are going to have everything set up before the client arrives." He tucked most of the things he needed under one arm, along with his briefcase and nodded a 'thank you' to his son when Don hopped up and opened the kitchen door for him.

"Good luck, Dad." Don said.

"Thank you." Alan said, walking down the back steps. He stopped at the bottom, turned and fixed Don with a glare. "You know, I can't stop you from infecting Greater Los Angeles but when your mother and I taught you and your brother to share, this is not what we had in mind."

Don flushed but did not reply.

"Just call if you need anything." Alan repeated. He walked out to his car and dropped everything into the passenger's seat, before walking around to the driver's side. He got in and was headed down the street within moments.

However, he was tempted, seriously tempted, to turn around and go back home, canceling the meeting. Donnie had never been _good_ at staying put, even as a child and Alan was pretty sure that his eldest still hadn't outgrown that predilection.

* * *

Don tried to do what his father had asked. He watched some TV, played a couple of rounds of video golf and even managed to make a dent in his e-mail inbox but by Noon, he was rapidly losing his desire to humor his father. What had he been thinking? Agreeing to stay _home_ all day. He had to have lost his mind. He flicked the TV back on intending to do some channel surfing when his hand froze on the remote. The noon news was on and splashed across the screen were the words 'Jewelry Store Robbers Strike Again!' He turned up the volume and waited for details.

_"An army surplus store in the Little Tokyo area was hit this morning. Possibly by the same group of robbers responsible for the robbery of Hauer's Fine Jewelry earlier this week that also resulted in the wounding of an off-duty LAPD lieutenant. It is unknown what was taken or if there are any injuries. We have a crew on the way to the scene and we will have more details as they become available." _

Don hit the 'off' button on the TV remote and headed for the stairs to get dressed. It took him a _bit_ longer than normal because his father had hidden his clothes in the back of Charlie's closet. Coming back down the stairs he had but three things to do before he could leave. Find out which army surplus store had been hit, get a ride to the Federal building to pick up his SUV and leave a note for his father. The note was the easiest of the three. His father would be annoyed but he'd understand. He always did. Next, finding out which store had been hit. That was bit more difficult but only because his cell phone had been confiscated. Cursing Megan under his breath another time, he used the landline in the kitchen to call the one person who would tell him.

"_Sinclair_."

"David, it's Don. Where are you?" He knew he was putting the junior agent on the spot but he had no choice.

"_Don? Hey, you sound a lot better._" David replied.

"I feel better too. Now, where are you? I know about the army surplus store robbery, which surplus store?" The silence from David's end was deafening to the point where Don could hear all the chatter in the background. "David?" Don had hoped he wouldn't have to drag the info out of David, maybe, maybe not.

"_You're still on medical leave. Why do you want to know where the robbery is?_"

Don's eyebrows went up. David wasn't caving in to him quite so fast any more. He would normally see such behavior as a good sign, but not at that moment, not when he needed information. "David, you can either tell me what I need to know or I can come down to the federal building and get the information that way. If I have to do that, I'm not going to be too happy." More silence. "Sinclair…"

There was a sigh and then, "_It's just off Central and Second. It's kinda obvious actually, just look for the flashing lights._"

"Thank you." Don hung up before David could say anything further. The location secured, all that was left was getting his SUV from the federal building. A phone call to Glendale Livery solved that problem. Shortly, he was on his way, his promise to his father disappearing like the early morning fog.

* * *

If Don had had the idea he would be allowed to slip into the investigation with no one the wiser, the notion died a quick death. He had barely crossed under the crime scene tape when he saw Megan bearing down on him like the very wrath of God embodied in female form. He braced himself for her invective, determined not to leave. She reached him well before he reached the curb.

"How…" She shook her head and sighed, then the resolve was back and she snapped at him. "Give me the keys NOW, Don."

He looked at her like she had lost her mind. "What keys?"

"Oh, like you walked here? Took a cab or the bus? Whatever." She held out her hand. "The keys, Don."

He frowned. "Why? It's not like I'm going anywhere, anytime soon." He started to walk away from her, only to be stopped by a firm grip on his upper arm.

"Don, you're giving me the keys or I'm taking them from you." Megan's voice brooked no argument.

He shot her a wicked grin. "Ooh, promise?" When she moved to physically search him, Don decided he'd rather stay in one piece and, reluctantly, dug the keys out of his pants pocket and handed them to her. "There. Happy?"

"No. When you leave and go home and stop infecting everyone, _then_ I'll be happy." Megan frowned. "How did you know where we were?"

"Sources." He was not about to tell Megan just who his source was.

Her eyes narrowed. "I know this…" She waved her arm to encompass the crime scene. "Was broadcast on the noon news but no location was given."

"What? I'm not supposed to recognize a street I drive down almost every other day? C'mon, Reeves. I'm a senior field agent, I have skills."

"Yeah, you're also as stubborn as a Missouri mule." She tilted her head to the side. "You didn't call me and I know you didn't call Granger…if you had he wouldn't have answered. That leaves…David."

"Don't forget the folks in Central Dispatch who have no idea that I was placed on medical leave."

"You wouldn't call them." She crossed her arms.

He aimed another grin at her as he pulled a stick of chewing gum out of his suit pocket and stuck it in his mouth. "Wouldn't I?"

Megan shook her head. "No, you wouldn't. It wouldn't occur to you."

"Megan, I'm seriously offended here." Don said, trying to edge around her.

She gave him a _look_. "And I'm insulted that you obviously don't trust me to work on this case without your input."

Don let out a small cough. "Reeves…it's not that at all! I just…Well, it's just that I –" The tickling in the back of his throat decided to escalate right then and he started to cough.

"You just can't do what you're asked." She watched him with some concern, and then stepped back from him a bit.

Don waved her off as he bent over, the coughing fit threatening to turn into something a little…juicier…and spat his gum into the sewer grate before straightening up again. The barking had stopped but the urge to hack up a toenail was still lurking in the back of his throat.

Don looked back to Megan, studying her glacial expression and realized he was facing a stonewall of will. She was not going to let him anywhere near the scene unless he gave her something. "David." Was all he said, hoping she wouldn't ream out the younger agent too hard.

If possible, her frown deepened. "What?" Her voice had turned to ice.

"Don't blame him, I put him on the spot." Don shook his head lightly, trying to rid himself of the noise buzzing in his ears.

Megan felt the anger rise up but squashed it quickly. "So, in order to stay on a case that you weren't supposed to be working on because you're sick…you took advantage of your position as his boss to get the intel you wanted?"

"Basically, yeah." Don replied.

"You should be ashamed of yourself. What is _wrong_ with you?" She snapped at him.

Don managed to look, he hoped, ashamed of his actions; however, from the look on her face, she was not buying it. "I…look Megan, it's not like I'm really sick." He protested, even as he willed his legs not to give out from under him. "You need my help on this case."

"I need your help when you're sick like I need a—" She didn't bother to complete her sentence. "I thought confiscating your cell and keys was enough, apparently not."

Don quirked a smile, kind of a half grin, as he spouted the first words that came to him. "Maybe it'll take cuffs and chains to keep me down."

"Don't tempt me." She muttered, watching Don's coloring change rapidly, going from a nice, healthy tone to way too pale to flushed in the space of 30 seconds. She put a hand on his forehead, and then pulled it back. "You're burning up. You're leaving. I'll get David to drive you home - _again_. Maybe I'll confiscate his phone too. You even think about arguing and the next person I talk to is Wright."

The words had barely left her mouth when Don crumpled to the street like so much wet sand. She caught him on the way down, winding up on the ground with him but at least she kept him from cracking his head on the pavement. The heat pouring from his body was not a good sign, nor was the fact that he wasn't sweating. After hollering for a medic, Megan loosened Don's tie and undid the top button of his shirt. "I am going to strangle David." She muttered. "And Alan's going to strangle you." She told Don.

"Agent? What's the problem?" A male voice said.

Megan looked up and saw a tallish man with a mop of red hair standing there, holding a bag. She pointed at Don. "My boss. He was sent home two days ago because he had the flu but he wouldn't stay at home and rest. He got our location out of a junior agent and just had to come. He's burning up and is it my imagination or is he starting to turn blue?"

The medic, his name tag read _Tashenburg_, crouched down next to Don and put the back of his hand against Don's forehead. He took out his stethoscope and listened to Don for a few moments before yelling back to his partner. "Jeff! Bring the P and C kits – STAT!"

"What?" 'Jeff' looked confused for a moment but then dove into the back of the ambulance, hauled two large bags out and came running.

Megan looked at Tashenburg. "Hold it, 'P and C' kits?"

The medic nodded. "Cardiac and pulmonary. Your boss's heart is working hard, maybe too hard and I'm getting noises from his lungs that I shouldn't be."

Just then, Jeff skidded to a stop and gently nudged Megan away from Don's side. She stood up and back and watched as the two men worked on Don, the senior agents coloring improving as Tashenburg established an IV and Jeff put an oxygen mask over Don's nose and mouth.

"I'm going to throttle him." Megan muttered. "We'll need a new person for the team 'cause I'm going to throttle him." Her muttering blocked out whatever Tashenburg was saying over the radio in his hand as well as the reply. However, she suspected it wasn't good when Jeff took off like a sprinter and came back with the gurney. "Oh, this just gets better and better."

Don started to come around, blinking his eyes and attempting to get up.

Tashenburg looked Megan. "What's his name?"

"Don Eppes." She replied.

On the ground, Don kept trying to get up but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Hang on there, where do you think you're going?" Jeff asked him.

"Gotta…gotta job to do." Don managed to get out.

"Yeah and right now, that job is to get better so you can go back to work." Jeff told him.

"Agent Eppes, the sooner we get you to a hospital, the sooner you can get back out in the field." Tashenburg said to him.

Don's eyes darted from Tashenburg to Jeff to Megan and back again, confusion flooding his face. Finally, he shook his head. "No hospital."

"Agent Eppes, you wanna get back to work right?" Tashenburg asked. Don nodded. "So, we run you down to the ER, they check you out and, saying they're happy, you go on your way, okay"

"What if they're…they're not…happy?"

"You spend a couple of hours there. The sooner you get there, the sooner you can leave."

Don was quiet for a long moment before nodding. He let himself be helped onto the gurney and then belted down.

"Agent…?" Tashenburg asked Megan.

"Reeves." She supplied.

"Agent Reeves, we'll be transporting him to UCLA. He's stabilized a little but I suspect, and I'm no doctor, he's no longer got the flu."

"Great. Okay, I'll get a hold of his father and have him meet Don there."


	8. Chapter 8

See Disclaimer in Part One

**Part Eight**

"Sinclair . . . what the hell?" Megan asked as she watching him hand off the store owner - in cuffs - to an LAPD officer.

"The owner's been selling land mines, minus the C-4 he swears, in the back of the store. I wouldn't have known except the bomb sniffing dog alerted to it there." David stopped, seeing the look on her face. He had seen that look a few times and none of them had been on good occasions.

"Uh-huh. That's really interesting, but --" She grabbed his elbow and pulled him out of the store and away from prying ears. "What the _HELL_ were you thinking when you told Don where this scene was?"

"What? What are you talking about?" He pried his elbow out of her grip and backed up a few steps.

"Don't!" She hissed. "Don't you _dare_ try to cover for him after he freaking admitted to me what he'd done. Just before I shipped his ass off in a gawddamn ambulance 'cause he showed up here and damn near passed out on me."

David's eyes popped open and he took another couple of steps back. "He was here?"

She nodded. "He was. Paramedics looked him over and hauled him away. Now, if you're done with what you were doing, we - as in you and I - are going to drive up to Pasadena where I get to tell Alan his eldest is in the hospital and you, David, _you _get to tell him why."

David swallowed. "What was I supposed to do? He's my boss."

"Tell him to call me?" Megan softened her tone but she was still a little hacked.

"Yeah, like that would work." David rolled his eyes. "You know how he can be, I'd never hear the end of it from him. 'C'mon, David...no one else has to know'." He imitated Don's voice almost perfectly.

"Oh, I know all right - which is why I feel a little guilty that I chewed him out just before he didn't - if you ask him - faint." She shook her head. "I get the thrill of telling Alan what's up, maybe I should give you a slightly more disagreeable duty?" The smile that crossed her face was known to make hardened criminals crack - and this time it was aimed at David Sinclair.

He sighed. "In my defense, given the choice between pissing you off and pissing him off, I'd rather piss you off, you can only hurt me physically."

"What about pissing off ADA Wright?" She asked, innocence dripping like honey from her lips.

He quirked an eyebrow. "You gonna tell on me to him? I'll say the exact same thing to him too."

"No, David, I'm not going to tell Wright that you willing gave away case information to an Agent who he personally sent home on Sick Leave." She paused for a minute. "You are."

"Fine." He straightened his shoulders. "Let's get it over with."

She looked at him, and then shook her head. "Nah. We'll save that for later. **After** we tell Alan the news and escort him over to UCLA Medical Center." She walked toward her car, motioning for him to follow her. "Might as well come with me - this way you can drive Alan to the hospital while I head back to the office to update Wright."

* * *

He had gotten home earlier than expected and was looking forward to spending some time with Don, even if his son was, probably, still contagious. But that was not to be. When he walked in the front door, only silence greeted him. On the coffee table in the living room he found the note Don had left him.

He read once, then twice and sighed. "He gets his stubbornness from you, Margaret." Alan said, looking heavenward. "He did not get it from me." He contemplated whether or not to call the FBI office; surely Megan or someone else from his team would see Don and kick him out. But what if no one else was there...

He was reaching for the phone when he heard a car in the driveway.

//_Oh, thank you.// _He said to himself. //_He came to his senses.// _Alan hurried to the front door and opened it, expecting to see his eldest coming up the walkway but that's not who was standing out there. Megan and David were and his heart sank. //_What on Earth...//_

"Alan... sorry to drop by like this." She started to say, then - noticing Alan had gone white - immediately blurted out the rest. "Don's okay, well, he's not but he should be, if he weren't so stubborn. He showed up at a scene and I ended up sending him off in an ambulance."

Alan nodded. "You two might as well come inside. You can tell me the rest in there." He waved the two agents in and followed after them, shutting the door behind himself. "What happened?" He asked.

Megan just looked at David, inviting him to go ahead and 'fess up to the role he had played in this afternoon's drama.

"Alan, Don called me about an hour ago and wanted to know where we were." David said.

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of Alan's face. In spite of his worry over Don, he knew what David was going to say before he said it. "And you told him, right?"

David nodded. He shot a glance at Megan before continuing. "I really didn't think I should but...he _is_ my boss."

Megan jumped in at this point. "To be truthful, Alan, I'm not 100 sure that Don actually pressured David into talking, but..." She shrugged.

David shot her the nastiest look he could.

Alan shook his head. "No, Megan, I think he did. I know my son. Donnie's never been the most patient of people. Especially when what he believes is different from reality."

Megan let a rueful grin cross her face. "All right, maybe he did ... I wasn't pleased when he showed up at the scene. Made me feel like he didn't trust me, but his body got in the last word." She launched into a rough sketch of what had happened at the scene and how she'd managed to convince him to go to the hospital.

When she was done, Alan replied. "Thank you for attempting to keep him at home." He looked at David. "And you didn't do anything terrible, you know. My son can be..." Alan searched for the right word. "...a bully when he wants something and can't have it immediately."

David nodded. "So, I'm going to drive you to the hospital."

"All right. Thank you, let me leave a note for Charlie where he'll see it." Alan snatched up the nearest piece of paper and the pen Don had used to write his note. It was short and to the point. "Donnie, UCLA, probably pneumonia."

Alan ushered the two agents back outside, shut and locked the door and left the note at eye level, right where Charlie would see it. He handed over the keys to David then walked down the steps with Megan, waiting until they reached the bottom step.

"Megan?" Alan asked.

"Yes, Alan?"

Alan looked over at David. "Look, I know David shouldn't have been telling Don anything but I also know my children. Don't give him too hard of a time, please."

Megan smiled. "I've already done all I'm going to do, Alan." She kept her voice low so the subject in question couldn't overhear her. "But I want him to think that I'm not finished." She let out a sigh. "Now I get to go back to the office and tell Assistant Director Wright that your son is in the hospital instead of home where he practically ordered him to stay."

Alan squeezed her on the arm. "Thank you. Sometimes, like now, I think you should get a pay raise simply for working with Donnie."

"Can I tell ADA Wright you said that? Might actually be able to wheedle that raise out of him if I do." She teased.

Alan grinned. "I'll write it down and even get it notarized. Donnie is very lucky to have someone like you willing to put up with someone like him. Thank you again." He turned and walked over to the Toyota where David was waiting.

* * *

Sounds and voices swirled over Don's head after the doors were shut on the ambulance. He still didn't understand what the fuss was. It couldn't be the flu. He'd feel better after some sleep, he had before. He blinked, looking up at the ceiling of the ambulance and wondered just how _did_ they light the treatment bay.

The paramedic's face came into view. "Agent Eppes, my name is Jeff. We're not far from the hospital. All you gotta do is relax. Can you do that for me?"

Don nodded. Why did everyone think he couldn't relax?

He blinked and tried to take more than a shallow breath but had a difficult time. Panic flared. He tried taking a breath again and couldn't. His eyes widened, the panic setting his heart to racing.

//_This is when it happens! This is where I'm going to die!// _The thoughts zipped through Don's mind so fast he could barely grab hold of them. His panic attracted the attention of Jeff who had heard the increased beeping of the heart rate monitor first.

He looked at the monitor, then down at Don. "Hey, Agent Eppes, just relax, we're almost there."

'_Relax?! I can't breathe and he wants me to relax?!' _

Jeff leaned over and fiddled with the mask covering Don's nose and mouth, increasing the airflow. "Agent Eppes, focus on taking one breath at a time. Let the mask do the hard part. Relax and focus on one breath at a time."

Don nodded and did what Jeff said and it sorta worked, he wasn't gasping for air any more but he felt so bad. He blinked. Jeff was getting a bit fuzzy around the edges. He blinked again and closed his eyes. A thumping, bumping noise brought Don around not more than five minutes later but he couldn't know that.

He blinked awake and saw the doors of the ER looming up before him. On the other side of the doors was a cacophony of noise loud enough to make Don's head ache even more than it already was. Not only that, it was cold. Every ER Don had ever been to had been cold and not just cold but ice box cold.

Why did the ER always have to be so damn cold?

"What've ya got gents?" A new voice got Don's attention. He craned his neck and got a glimpse of dark brown hair and aliens on a shirt? He focused on the shirt to the extent that he totally missed whatever conversation the doctor and the paramedics had. He only knew something had changed when he felt himself being lifted and transferred to another gurney.

The paramedics went away and Don watched, fascinated, as the doctor, at least that's who Don assumed the person was, hollered for something. Unceremoniously, he was rolled on his side and something hard was stuck under him. The process was repeated on his other side and then a huge, x-ray looking machine was pulled over him. Don wanted to tell them not to bother, that he'd be all right after he got some sleep but he didn't have the energy. Besides, he was still trying to figure out if the doctor really did have aliens on his shirt.

"Agent Eppes," the doctor stepped around the gurney and stood where Don could see him. Dark brown hair, tired eyes, maybe just a bit of a five o'clock shadow growing on his cheeks and chin. "I'm Dr. Vernacke, you're at U.C.L.A Medical Center. I'm going to listen to your lungs. Try and breathe normally. Sorry but this is going to be cold."

Don quickly found out what Dr. Vernacke meant when he felt something frosty and metallic on his upper chest. It was enough to make Don sit up halfway. Dr. Vernacke braced him so he could listen to both sides before letting Don lie down again. He did not look happy.

"Where's that X-Ray?" Dr. Vernacke hollered.

"Right here, doc." A shortish, balding man appeared, handed something to him and left. Dr. Vernacke slipped the X-Rays from their sleeve and slapped them on a light box hanging on the wall.

"Is it the flu?" Don wheezed through the oxygen mask.

Dr. Vernacke shook his head. "Nope, definitely not the flu."

Don grinned. "Told 'em it wasn't." he mumbled.

Dr. Vernacke turned around and looked at Don. "It's pneumonia. Double pneumonia."

The smile vanished off Don's face as quickly as it had come. "Man...I'm never gonna hear the end of this."

Dr. Vernacke shook his head. He spoke to one of the nurses, then turned to leave.

"Wait a minute...When can I leave?" Don asked, beyond confused and rapidly approaching annoyed. "Gimme a shot or whatever you need to do to get me back on my feet. I've got to get back to work."

Dr. Vernacke snorted. "Yeah, sure, Agent Eppes. I'll do that, right after I rip up my medical license. You're not going any where."

"You can't keep me here." Don snapped.

Dr. Vernacke smiled. "No, I can't. You are free to leave AMA."

Don nodded in response and moved to get up off the gurney. Or tried to. He could barely sit up on his own and his limbs felt like they were full of lead bricks. The more he struggled to get off the exam bed, the more winded he became and the more black spots danced in his vision.

Gently, Dr. Vernacke made Don lay back down on the gurney. "Agent Eppes...you're really, really sick. Whether you like it or not, you're stuck here for a while."

"I don't wanna be here. I've got work to do." Don almost, but not quite, whined.

"I'm sure you don't but you're stuck." Dr. Vernacke told him. He gave an order to the nurse that, literally, went over Don's head.

"Doc? It's only for a day or two, right?" Don asked

Dr. Vernacke smiled. "The sooner you relax and let your body heal, the sooner you'll be outta here, got it?"

"Right. Rest and recuperate." Don closed his eyes and tried to comply with the doctor's advice, but he was already planning on how to leave once he got his legs back.

"Doc?" Don opened his eyes.

"Yes, Agent Eppes?" Dr. Vernacke turned around and came back to the gurney.

"Are those really aliens on your shirt?"

Dr. Vernacke flashed him a tired smile. "Yes. Why be normal?" And he was gone.

"All right, Agent Eppes, you just let us take care of you for a while, hmm?" A nurse said to him, coming up on his right side.

"Okay." He blinked, then closed his eyes and relaxed into sleep.

* * *

"Alan, if I could somehow have the cars just move out of the way, I would." David said, staring out at the grid locked traffic in front of them. They had been sitting in the massive traffic jam for well over an hour.

Alan shook his head. "You couldn't know that the Bruins would be having a day baseball game." He sighed. "Had Donnie stayed at home, he could have been listening to the game."

David shifted in his seat, feeling guilty to his core. "Being his dad, did Don listen to you when you told him 'no' when he was a kid?"

Alan snorted. "Not if he could at all possibly avoid it. Half the time, his mother had to lay down the law. My son gives stubborn a whole new meaning."

The car inched forward a few feet.

David did not respond.

"Please, David, I meant what I said back at the house; don't beat yourself up over this. You didn't do anything wrong."

David grimaced and gripped the steering wheel tighter. "It certainly feels like I did something wrong. If I hadn't told him..."

"He would have gotten it from someone else," Alan interrupted. "Is that an open exit up ahead?"

David craned his neck. "Yeah, I think it is." He started to move the car over. "We'll get there yet."

"It's all right. Donnie's not going anywhere."


	9. Chapter 9

See Disclaimer in Part One

**Part Nine **

In the time since Gary had been admitted and sent to ICU, Elaine had quickly become familiar with the other patients in ICU. Not their names of course, but, rather, what was wrong with them and she walked by their rooms, their conditions ran through her mind. IC-10 was a man, multiple vehicle accident. IC-12 was a woman, post-surgical observation. IC-1 was a man, gunshot wound like Gary; IC-2 was another man, pre-surgical observation. IC-4 was a woman, also in for pre-surgical observation. IC-6 was….

Elaine stopped, frowned and backed up. Unless she was going blind, that wasn't a woman in IC-4 anymore. Sure enough, the woman was gone and in her place, a man. She looked down at the name card on the door and her frown deepened. She peered through the window just to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

She wasn't.

Don Eppes was lying in the bed in IC-4 and he did not look good at all. She shook her head and sighed. //_What is it about cops that they think they're invincible?_//

She then noticed the 'quarantine' sign on the door and the red biohazard hamper by the door and sighed. "Too stubborn for your own damn good." She muttered. "The patient in IC-4…" Elaine said, turning to the nurse at the duty station. "What happened to him?"

"I'm sorry Dr. Walker," the nurse, her nametag read 'Audrey,' shook her head. "But you're not his primary or a family member so I can't say anything."

Elaine nodded. "Look down at the bottom of his chart."

Audrey did. "Oh! Wait a minute ... Cardiologist of Record - Dr Elaine Donovan-Walker? Small world."

"Can I pick 'em or what?" Elaine said. "What happened?" She repeated her question.

"Double pneumonia." Audrey replied.

"I see you've already got the Isolation Protocols in effect but you might want to go whole hog and make him think it's far worse than it really is; he's kinda stubborn." Elaine said.

"Yeah, we noticed. He's already tried to get out of bed and he can't even lift his head without help."

"That's Eppes for you. Trust me - the added hassle of getting the stuff up from Central will be worth it in the long run."

Audrey nodded. "With some, you can just tell. I've already got an order in."

"If you need someone to get him to pay attention, don't hesitate to come get me. For some reason, I think he actually listens to me." Elaine told her.

Audrey grinned. "I will keep that in mind, Dr. Walker."

"Who's his primary?" Elaine asked, keeping one eye on Gary's room.

She looked down at the chart. "Dr. Roberts."

Elaine nodded. "He hasn't been by yet, has he?" The nurse shook her head. "Okay, when he does come, come and get me. I'd like to talk to him."

"Certainly." Audrey looked past Elaine and into Don's room. "Excuse me, Dr. Walker." She sighed and stood. "Agent Eppes is trying to leave, again."

Elaine turned and saw Don struggling to get upright but failing miserably. That did not stop him from trying though.

She put a hand on Audrey's arm. "Let me talk to him." She said. "I might be able to talk some sense into him."

"Oh, Dr. Walker, really, you don't have to."

"I insist. Gives me a chance to hone my skills on a patient who can't escape." She made no mention of Gary's, hopefully temporary, paralysis.

Audrey chuckled. "All right. I don't suppose I have to brief you on Isolation Protocols, do I?"

"Nope." Elaine looked back at the small storage room behind the station. "I don't suppose you have a spare Iso-gown or two running loose back there, or a plastic apron?" She came around the desk, grabbing up a pair of medium gloves and a mask with a face shield from the Wound Dressing cart as she followed the other woman.

Audrey quirked an eyebrow. "Give me a moment. I think we do." She disappeared, then reappeared with an Iso gown and handed it over to Elaine. "Never did understand why these come in yellow."

"Me either. Probably has something to do with the idea you'll be spotted from a distance in them." Elaine pulled the mask on, then the gloves, then the gown as she walked back toward Eppes' room and slid open the door. "Eppes, just what are you doing?"

Don blinked, his head snapping around at the sound of his name. "Elaine?" he croaked.

"Yes, Don ... it's me." She walked up next to his bedside and placed a gloved hand on his chest. "You really shouldn't be trying to get up, ya know?"

He blinked and stared. Whoever it was in front of him, they didn't look like Elaine. "What's with the get-up?"

Even though she knew he couldn't see past the mask, Elaine smiled. "It's called isolation gear, Don. You're in quarantine. The only reason I didn't shut the door behind me is this room has negative air pressure." She noted the confusion in his eyes. "You know, negative pressure? Air comes in here, but doesn't leave? Can't have your germs escaping to infect other patients."

He blinked again. "Germs? It's...its not that bad..."

"Don ... quarantine. If it's bad enough for that, it's bad."

Instead of responding, he started to cough and couldn't seem to stop.

Elaine looked around, spotted an emesis basin and handed it to him. "Bring the crap up and out. Spit into this."

He coughed and hacked for a good few minutes, finally coughing up something.

Elaine handed him a cup of ice chips, after scooping them out of the nearby water pitcher. "Suck on that." Then peered into the basin. "Oooh, nice colors. Cream and green - massive infection. I'll set this aside for Doc Roberts, I'm sure he'll want to send it to the lab for analysis."

What little energy he had was gone and it was hard to even hold the cup in his hand. "Dr. Roberts?"

"You're attending physician, or primary while you're here." Elaine explained as she set the basin down on a cabinet, opening drawers until she found a plastic spoon. She then came back to his side, took the cup from him, fished out a few chips out and held the spoon up to his lips. "Open wide, Don."

He did. The ice felt wonderful going down.

"Better?" She asked, even as she fished a few more chips out with the spoon.

"Yeah..." His voice came out as a harsh croak. "My dad's gonna be ticked at me."

Elaine put the spoon back into the cup, going for a few more chips, she wasn't real happy with the dehydrated look Don was carrying. "Oh? Why would that be?"

"He asked me to stay at..." Don swallowed "...at home today--"

"And yet, here you are. Sorry, Don, this isn't home and maybe if you had stayed there, you wouldn't be here." She shrugged. "I might have to side with your father on this one."

He blinked. "I was ... fine this ... morning. I made myself scrambled eggs."

She eyed him. "And did they stay down? How much liquid have you taken in today?"

He nodded. "You'd be happy ... I had orange juice too. No coffee."

"How much fluid intake, Don?" She reached out and with hands that were as gentle as she could be, she grabbed up an arm and pinched. Not hard enough to bruise or hurt, just to observe how fast the skin went back into place. "You're dehydrated and that's with an IV drip going."

He frowned. "A glass of orange juice today." He swallowed. "Soup last night...haven't had much of an appetite. Wait, I did have some water last night."

Elaine shook her head. "You were advised to push fluids, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Don, that chunk you just brought up would've come out a hell of a lot easier if you were properly hydrated. I may just have to speak with Doc Roberts myself after he's taken a gander at you. To see about adding another IV and a humidity enriched nasal cannula. Got to get fluids into you one way or another."

"Which hospital?" he asked.

"You don't know where you are?" Elaine asked, concerned.

"The doc in the ER said but I wasn't really paying attention."

She laid a non-pinching, gentle hand on his arm. "Don ... Gary's just three doors down from you. You're in UCLAMC."

He nodded. "How's Gary doing?"

"He's still asleep. He's immobilized to keep him from rupturing the sutures." She was happy most of her face was hidden by the mask ... she didn't want to burden a patient with her worries and she was pretty sure her face would've been an easy read for someone like Don Eppes.

Don summoned his energy and moved his hand to cover one of hers. "Gary'll be fine." He blinked, trying to marshal his thoughts. "And we're going to find the sonovabitch that did this." He added a weak grin. "Megan's in charge."

"Yes, he will be. I will not permit anything less." Elaine shrugged as she continued. "As for the SOB ... I hope Megan finds his corpse."

Don started to laugh or tried to anyway, the laugh triggered another coughing spell.

Elaine brought the emesis basin back to him and waited until he was done trying to cough up a hairball before addressing him again.

"Don ... you do realize I shot the man who shot Gary, right?"

Understanding flashed across Don's face. "You?" He shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "Megan...is...is...going to find his corpse."

"Good. Glad you understand. Now, rest for a while, Don. Let your body heal while your team takes care of business." Elaine shook her head and let out a small chuckle. "By the way ... you trained Granger up just right. Poor man ... but at least he didn't back down from me when I challenged him."

Don's eyes widened. "What'd you do to Granger? I don't have time to break in another agent."

"He's in one piece, didn't even break a nail, but he was smart enough not to tell me the name of the sonovabitch I shot after I ID'ed his photo in the mugbook."

Don grinned and coughed. "He's doing all right." He blinked. "M'dad here yet?"

"I don't think so, but I'll check for you. Get some sleep and no getting out of that bed until you're told you can, got that?"

"Harridan." Don mumbled, dropping off to sleep.

"Flatterer." Elaine walked back toward the door, spotting an older gentleman there being shown how to properly dress for the quarantined room.

She stepped out of the room, closed the door behind her and lifted the mask up off her face. "Mister Eppes?"

The man looked up at her, a mix of fear and concern on his face. "Yes?"

She smiled as brightly as she could as she stripped the gloves off her hand and dropped them into a red biohazard hamper. "Mister Eppes, I've been wanting to meet you for a while...I'm Doctor Elaine Walker." She held out a slightly powdery hand in greeting.

The man stared at her for a moment, almost like he was running through a photo album in his mind. Suddenly, his eyes lit up and took her hand in his. "Oh! You're Elaine. Alan Eppes."

"Oh dear, from your expression, you've heard of me." She returned the firm handshake and, when he released her hand, reached up and completely removed the mask and tossed it in the trash. The paper gown came off next and followed the gloves into the bio bag.

"Oh, nothing too bad. Nothing I haven't heard before." Alan smiled. He looked over her shoulder and into the room she had just come from and the smile disappeared.

She chuckled. "Well, considering Don just called me a "harridan" and I accepted it as a compliment . . . Alan, come with me for second."

He nodded.

She stopped, leaned over the nurse's station and advised of the lab samples before continuing toward a small lounge. "Come in here a minute and I'll tell you what little I know and advise you as best I can as to what's going on with Don."

Another nod.

"I asked him to stay home today. To humor me." Alan said, following Elaine into the lounge.

"Okay, first off ... I'm not your son's primary care physician, so what little I know is just from what I glimpsed in his chart and from talking with him." She said.

"You talked to him?"

She nodded. "Yes, sort of. In between bouts of coughing and sputum spitting."

Alan grimaced. "That's my boy. Dr. Walker, I understand that your not the primary physician but you know Don a whole lot better than any other doctor he's had in a while."

"Thank you ... I think." Elaine at down on a couch and indicated Alan should also sit down, which he did. "Alan, Don has double pneumonia. Both of his lungs are filled with crap, crap that he's having a hard time expelling because he allowed himself to get dehydrated. Of course, that only happened because he went against your wishes and all common sense..."

"I was just telling David that. My son brings a whole new definition to stubborn."

"Don't most cops?"

Alan chuckled. "You've got a point. But is he going to be all right, eventually?"

"Eventually, yes. But it's going to take a while. He'll probably be kept in the hospital for a few days, if not a whole week, just to give the treatments a chance to take hold, but once he's discharged--" She shrugged again. "I know he's stubborn but he'll be too slow and tire too quickly to do anything like push himself for about a month while his lungs heal."

A nod. "Good. He needs to remember that he's not 22 anymore. I intend to keep him at the house where his brother and I can keep an eye on him."

"There is one - minor - concern that I'll be discussing with the primary physician."

"What?"

"Don, or even Charlie, told you how I came to meet them?"

Alan nodded. "You're the cardiologist. The one who..." Alan paused trying to think of the right words. "...the one who won't let him drink regular coffee any more. Believe it or not, Don told me. But I think he did because if he hadn't, Charlie would have."

She chuckled. "Yes, I'm the _biotch_ who told Don to cut back on caffeine." Elaine dropped the grin and looked Alan directly in the eyes. "During the follow-up exam after the heat stroke, I did find some extremely minor damage to Don's heart. Now he's very healthy - generally speaking - that the minor damage will probably never affect him. He'll probably live to be a hundred or better, but while he's hacking and coughing like he is, he's putting a strain on the cardiac muscle and I find that a little worrisome."

Another nod. "Understandable. Is that what you're going to tell his doctor?"

"Yes. You see, normally we would put a pneumonia patient on some heavy duty expectorants to help them break up and bring up the crap filling their lungs. But due to Don's history ... I'm going to recommend we just help nature run its course with him and treat symptomatically."

"All right. Is he on anything right now?"

"Nothing that I wouldn't put him on. IVs for a fluid push and some fever reducers. Oh! One other thing-- the isolation set up."

Alan sighed. "Yes, I know. I'm well acquainted with isolation procedures." He paused and then added. "My wife, Don and Charlie's mother, died from cancer 5 years ago. I became very well acquainted with it all."

"I'm sorry, Alan ... if I'd known---" She broke off, shaking her head. "No, I think it's still the best course of action with him. Alan, in Don's case, the isolation set up is overkill. He's not as infectious as I want him to think he is."

A chuckle from Alan that time. "Scare him straight, hmm? Whatever works."

"That's the basic idea, yes." She stood up, straightening out the scrub pants she was still wearing from when Gary had undergone surgery.

Alan stood with her. "Excuse me if I'm being too forward but why are you here? Surely you didn't come down here just for Don."

She shook her head. "No, not for Don ... My husband is a patient here too. Just down from your son, in IC-8."

Alan's eyes widened. "Oh, my...I had no idea...what happened?"

"Do you know Gary too?" She never knew just how many people knew her husband. He didn't always talk about work at home.

It took only a moment for Alan to figure out who 'Gary' was. "I should've known. Doctor Walker ... Lieutenant Walker." He stopped for a moment, and then added, "I saw the story on the news. I am so sorry. How is he?" Alan took her hands in his. "Both Don and Charlie have nothing but good things to say about him."

"He's recovering from surgery. We won't know anything for certain until the neurological tests can be run. But Doctor Basse is the best damn Neurosurgeon in the southwest United States so I have good reason to hope Gary'll walk again."

Alan smiled. "And if you believe that, then it'll be. I won't keep you any longer from your husband then. Thank you so much for taking the time to try and knock some sense into my eldest. Many have tried."

"He's got a hard head ... if Don ever gets married, I may just have to supply his wife with a iron rod to beat some sense into him."

"You can get in line. Thank you again, Dr. Walker. Please, don't let me keep you from your husband." Alan released her.

"Oh, I'm going right back to Gary's side ... Alan, if you need a break for coffee, food, or just conversation, come get me." She opened the door to the lounge and waited until he joined her in the hallway. "I'm not going anywhere until Gar wakes up and can tell me he's going to kick the ass of the person who shot him."

"The same goes for me. Donnie is going to be a total..."Alan did not finish his sentence.

"Pain in the tookus?"

"Yes."

"Once he regains consciousness ... Gary will be too. I may have to suggest combat pay for the staff here."

Alan chuckled. "Good idea."

The two concerned family members, an Eppes and a Walker, proceeded to the rooms of their loved ones. Elaine walking right into IC-8 without a backward glance, Alan stopping only long enough to 'dress out' like he hadn't done since Margaret's last - and roughest - chemo session.

* * *

"'Laney..." Gary's groggy, weakened voice snapped Elaine out of her reverie. She stood and leaned over him, looking down into that beautiful light brown gaze.

"Hey, lover." She said smiling and gently squeezing his right hand. "You think you can just lie around in bed all day, hmm?"

He swallowed and tried to nod but couldn't. A frown crossed his face. "Wha..."

"The sutures, Gary. Until they come out, you can't move your head." She ran a hand over his hair, grateful he had come around, finally.

"Okay." His eyelids drooped but he blinked and looked quite determined to stay awake.

"It's okay, Gary. You can go back to sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

He blinked and his eyelids slid shut.

Elaine bit her lip, hard and tried not to cry.

* * *

There was a bit of a respite for Elaine, something to take her mind off her worries about Gary. Don. Ever since discovering that Don was now in the ICU as well, she kept an eye on IC-4 as best she could. So, she wasn't terribly surprised to see Don's brother Charlie come hustling into the ICU a couple of hours later. She looked down at Gary, still asleep and decided to give the nurses a break.

She kissed Gary on the forehead and left the room, moving rapidly across the floor to the nurse's station where Charlie was standing, looking not a little lost.

"Elaine?" He asked when she came up.

"Yep. That's me."

She nodded at Audrey who had just reappeared at the station. "I can show him what he needs to do."

Audrey rewarded her with a thankful smile. "You are a lifesaver, Dr. Walker." And she was off to check on the patient in IC-12.

She gave Charlie a gentle smile. "You're here to see your wayward brother?"

He nodded. "Like this is what any of us needs. I get home, see the note from my dad and took off for here." He frowned. "All he had to do was stay in bed."

Elaine bite lip to keep from smiling. Despite what anyone else thought, she had always had the nagging feeling from the day she first met the young mathematician that he had never been comfortable with his brother's choice of careers.

"He's in a bed now." She said, brightly. Charlie's frown only deepened. "Do you want to see your brother or do you want to yell at him? You can't do both," she advised.

He looked at her and smiled. "I'll behave Elaine, I promise. I still remember the last time I didn't around you."

She grinned in return. "Good. And don't you forget it. Now, a couple of rules here; you get fifteen minutes, once an hour. How you spend those fifteen or where in the hour you utilize them, is completely up to you -- but NO MORE than 30 minutes of visitation at one shot. Got that, Professor?" Elaine told him.

Charlie nodded.

"Good, now let's get you a crash course in Isolation Protocols..." She held up the paper - and awful - yellow gown. "First this. It goes over what you're wearing and ties in the back." She helped him slide into the cover up and then tied him into it.

"These," She held up two rounded paper items that were a sickly looking blue. "are shoe covers and, yes, they go over your shoes. Doesn't matter what side, they're pretty forgiving." She handed him the blue wads.

Balancing against the counter, Charlie pulled the shoe covers on.

"Now we have the mask," She pulled a beak-looking mask out of the box on the table outside of Don's room. "Pop it open like this-" she squeezed until the flattened mask became an oddly shaped cone. "And then hold it in place as you slide the elastic back over your head." Elaine looked at his head, and then the elastic strings and winced. "Oh well, no way around this, its going to pull and rip hair no matter what we try to do."

Charlie nodded again, slipping the mask over his face.

She waited until Charlie had the mask in place before giving him the final lesson. "Okay, just inside the door is a sink with surgical scrub soap - use it. Especially if you touch Don or anything he MIGHT have coughed up a germ on. Baring that, and you're better off with the soap; there's a dispenser of antibacterial gel over the sink you can use in place of the surgical scrub. But not if you have any open wounds or torn cuticles. It's alcohol based and you do NOT want that in a wound."

"Okay." Charlie's voice was slightly muffled but Elaine could hear him just fine.

"Charlie ..."

"What?"

"One last thing. This is mostly for your benefit rather than Don's but ... even if the docs can get him past the contagious stage, they might keep him in reverse isolation. In other words - YOU can teach him about isolation precautions because he'll be the one wearing the fashion items whenever he leaves the room."

"If?" Charlie repeated. "If the docs can get him past the contagious stage?" His voice almost but not quite squeaked.

"Just go talk with him and, when you're done, come see Gary and I down in IC-8 and - if you want - I can tell you why it might take a lot longer than usual to get Don past the contagious stage." Elaine turned him around by the shoulders and then used one hand to slide open the door and the other to give him a little nudge into the room.

Alan looked up when Charlie came into the room. "Charlie, you got my message I see."

Charlie nodded, then looked over at his brother, who looked absolutely awful. He sighed but caught his father's eye and didn't say what he wanted to say. Instead, he asked a very nice, polite question.

"How are you feeling, bro?"

"How am I feeling? Like road kill. Road Pizza, in fact."

"All you had to do was stay in bed." Charlie replied.

"Yeah, well..." Don shut up as Alan smiled at him from the chair.

"Charlie - your brother was never one to just sit still or let others do what he felt he needed to do."

"I know, I know. That's why I got to know the ER's around greater L.A. real well."

"Not all of them." Don groused.

"I'm sure I will in the future." Charlie muttered.

"No. Don't say that, Charlie." Alan admonished him. "Don't even joke about that or you WILL see all those hospitals."

Charlie fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Okay, Pop, you're right." He looked at Don and said, with a grin. "I heard that Megan just about bit your head off when you showed up at that crime scene."

"Huh?" Don looked at him, his eyes crossing, then uncrossing. "Oh yeah. Just before I sat down on the curb and she sic'ed the paramedics on me."

"You like to live dangerously, don't you? And I'm not talking about your choice of jobs."

"Yeah--" Don's face scrunched up, then before anyone could do or say anything, the agent was coughing and hacking fit enough to bring up a lung - the hard way.

Charlie's eyes widened. He looked at his father.

Alan reached for, then handed Don, an emesis basin and just in time. Don coughed a few more times and then actually managed to nearly hurl into the kidney-shaped catch basin in his hands.

Alan looked over at Charlie. "When he gets a bad fit, he tends to...you know. But its one of the only ways, according to the doctors and the nurses, for him to get the crap up out of his lower lungs."

"It sucks." Came the very weak protest from Don.

Charlie shook his head. "Man, bro..."

Don started coughing again, but not as hard and he didn't need the basin this time. Just a sip of water from a cup that Alan handed him. "He'll be okay, Charlie. Eventually. He's just paying for being too damn stubborn for his own good."

"Where do you think I get it from?" Don said, his voice so weak it was hard to hear.

"Your mother." Alan placed the cup on a rolling side table where Don could reach it if he needed it again.

Don tried to make a noise of derision but succeeded only in coughing again.

Before Charlie could get another word in edgewise, someone knocked on the glass behind him, he turned to see the nurse who'd assisted Doc Walker with her Isolation Lesson and she was pointedly tapping her watch. He'd been in with Don for at least fifteen minutes.

Charlie sighed. "Gotta go. I'm only allowed fifteen minutes with you, Mr. Plague Carrier."

"Thanks." Don waved him off and Alan walked over to the sink with him.

"Charlie," his father whispered in his ear. "Scrub up, but you don't have to draw blood - this is mostly a show for Don to get him to realize how bad it could've been." The accompanying wink nearly made Charlie laugh out loud but he stopped before he could give away the 'game' to his brother.

He nodded but barely. When he was done, he left the room.

Before he could take a step further, a nurse motioned to him to take off the gown, mask and shoe covers, then had him wash up again. Charlie waited until the nurse was satisfied with him and then, following Elaine's directions, went across the way to IC-8 to see her and the Lieutenant.

He approached the room, and then hesitated, he didn't want to wake up Lt. Walker if the man was resting. Lt. Walker wasn't the only person asleep. Elaine was dozing in the chair next to him, her hand in his. Not wanting to wake either, Charlie backed away. He could always talk to Elaine later.


	10. Chapter 10

See Disclaimer in Part One

**Part Ten**

Dr. Roberts found it odd that when he arrived in the ICU that evening to do his rounds, the nurse directed him to IC-8 in regards to his patient in IC-4 but when he looked down at his new patient's chart and noted the name of his cardiologist, it all made sense. The cardiologist was, supposedly, the wife of the patient in IC-8. He came to the doorway and poked his head in. A man, fast asleep, occupied the bed. A woman, with red hair, dressed in blue scrubs, sat in the chair next to the bed, deep in thought.

Not wanting to wake the man, he cleared his throat. "Dr. Walker?"

The woman jumped a little, even as she twisted her neck to glance at him. "Yes?"

He came into the room and held out his hand. "I'm Dr. Roberts. The nurse told me you wanted to speak to me regarding Don Eppes?"

She stood up, shaking his hand and used subtle pressure to escort him back out of the room. "Sorry, I just don't want to risk waking Gary." She said by way of explanation even as she slid the door mostly shut. "Have you met Don yet?"

Dr. Roberts shook his head. "Not yet. I saw on his chart that he's been diagnosed with double pneumonia and that he's a Fed." A smile quirked at his lips. "Which means he's going to be impossible."

"Worse." She smiled. "He's got a natural stubbornness that makes the rest of the 'impossible factors' much, much superior. He's also been diagnosed in the past with borderline hypertension and had a go-round with severe angina a few months back."

Dr. Roberts eyebrows quirked upward. "I can see why you wanted to speak with me. Shall I assume that the standard course of treatment might be too much for him?"

"A bit." She leaned back against the wall. "I also suggested to the staff here that they treat him like a patient with a massive contagion. He was - according to everything I've been able to pick up - sent home to recover from the flu, only to blow off everyone's concerns and showed up a crime scene where he immediately collapsed."

He nodded. "I knew someone had put the bug in the staff's ear. Pneumonia, even double pneumonia, doesn't normally rate Iso-gowns and gloves. So, what is your recommendation?"

"Honestly? I'd strap his butt down and leave him that way. However ... Let him think he's really contagious for 24 hours, then step back. He _might_ learn to listen to a doctor after that." She looked back over her shoulder at her husband. "Then again, he is a cop and all cops are well-known for not listening to doctors."

Another smile graced Dr. Roberts' lips. "How well I know that. There's a notation in the chart that there are labs in the works."

"Yeah, my fault. He managed to cough up some chunks - sounded like the deep lung variety - and I thought getting a culture run on them would give you a better idea on how to treat him."

"No, that's fine. The more information, the better. Does he have any family in the area? If so, are they already here or are they on their way?"

"His father, Alan, may still be around if he's not in the room. He's also got a younger brother in the area. No spouse. Unless something has drastically changed in the last few months."

Dr. Roberts chuckled. "You make that sound like that's a bad thing. What's his father like?"

"Alan? He's lovely. Truly concerned about his son, no matter how old the man might be. Don't BS him either; Alan will pick up on it. Don may have gotten his keen bullshyte meter from his father."'

"Point taken. All right, beyond tying him down, anything else you'd like to suggest?"

Dr. Walker smiled and Dr. Roberts wondered if it was possible to hide. "Honestly? I'd suggest chemical restraints as well as five-point physical restraints. Other than that-- Go with your gut instinct, just keep in mind that Don Eppes is a Alpha type personality with a distorted sense of duty and a potential heart attack walking."

Another nod. "So, he's basically a cop who eats, sleeps and breathes his job."

"Uh-huh," Doctor Walker suddenly seemed distracted and soon excused herself. "'Scuse me, Doc..." She slid open the door to the room behind her and made a bee line toward the bed, her hands going up to grasp the patient by the head. "Stop, Gary. Stop. I'm here. Do NOT Move."

Dr. Roberts watched for a few moments just in case Dr. Walker needed any help. But seeing that she obviously had things in hand, he left her with her husband and went back to IC-4.

After slipping into the Iso-gear and taking one last glance at the chart, Dr. Roberts slid the door to IC-4 open, stepped in and shut it behind him. He wasn't fan of contagion procedures even when they were necessary. It was just one more thing to do. He was even less a fan when they really weren't but he had the distinct impression from Dr. Walker that, in Agent Eppes case, they were. There was an older man, in Iso-gear seated in the chair next to the bed, papers spread out before him on his lap. In the bed, lay a man about his nephew's age, his hands a study in motion. Sort of.

"Mr. Eppes?" Dr. Roberts said to the man in the chair.

"Yes?" Came two answers, one from the older gentleman in the chair and the other - followed by a racking cough - from the man in the bed.

Dr. Roberts grinned even though it couldn't be seen from behind his mask. "One at time. I'll speak with the Mr. Eppes in the chair first and then the one in the bed."

Alan stood up, the paper in his hand expertly folded and tucked into his left hand. "Alan Eppes, father of the sickly one."

"Dr. John Roberts. I'm your son's attending physician while he's here at UCLA. Please, sit back down."

"Actually, if you don't mind, I'll stand. I've been sitting for a while."

"All right. That's fine. I wanted to introduce myself if you were still here and let you, both of you, know what will probably be happening. I just finished speaking with Dr. Walker about your son."

"Really? Elaine's a good person." Alan said.

"Drat." Don moaned and coughed. "Now I have to rethink my plan." More coughing followed.

Dr. Robert's eyes met Alan's eyes and he hoped his smile reached his eyes. "Dr. Walker suggested that the best thing to do with Agent Eppes would be to tie him down and leave him. I can't say I disagree."

Alan let out a snort of laughter but Don groused, "She would. It's just a chest cold, I hate taking up a bed that is probably needed by someone who is really sick." He managed not to cough ... but not for long. The latest hacking round went into overtime and Dr. Roberts found himself handing the sick FBI Agent a clean emesis basin as the young man started to turn green.

"While you're sitting up, Agent..." He waited until Don was done hacking up something. "I'm going to listen to your lungs. Try to take as deep a breath as you can, okay?"

Don nodded.

After a few moments, Dr. Robert's let Don lie back down and listened to him breathe from the front. He put his stethoscope away and looked at Don. "A chest cold, hmm? It's a good thing you aren't a doctor with those kind of diagnostic skills."

"It's a cold; it is in the chest. Okay, so I cough 'til I feel like I need to puke..." And words met action.

Dr. Roberts pushed the basin back in front of Don and again, waited. "Mr. Eppes, has Don ever been through bronchitis, mono, anything like that?"

"Yes. Yearly bouts with Bronchitis from ages 3-12. Then, just when his mother and I thought that was over, he came down with Mono at 16."

"Dr. Walker told me that Don has a younger brother, what about him?"

Alan thought for a few minutes before answering. "Not as much. But, then again, Charlie was more of a homebody and didn't socialize as much as Donnie did."

Dr. Roberts nodded. "I thought so. I've noticed over the years that if one sibling has the same thing over and over and over again, the other siblings don't. The constant bouts with bronchitis probably didn't do that much to his immune system but the more information I have the better." He eyed Don. "I think Don here managed to destroy his immune system all on his own."

"It's not like I've got HIV..." Don groused.

"Almost as bad. Tell me, Agent Eppes, what exactly was so important that you, most likely, defied your superior's orders and went back to work with the flu?"

Don had the grace to blush like an errant schoolboy caught in a bathroom reeking of smoke. "We've been called in to look into the shooting of Lieutenant Walker and the subsequent robberies. It was just a cold. I was feeling better..."

"Until you passed out at the scene." Dr. Roberts finished for him.

Don stared at the doctor.

"Oh, yes, it's in the original report."

Don switched his look to his father. "I didn't ... Pop, I didn't. I sat down."

"Donnie... tell that to someone who hasn't already talked with your team. You were NEVER good at staying still unless you were passed out." Alan told him.

"Agent Eppes, this is way things are. Whether you chose to accept it or not, you have double pneumonia. Your lungs are full of crud, that's why you're coughing so much and why you have a hard time breathing. Until that crud goes, you're stuck here. Understand so far?"

A grown man shouldn't pout like a ten-year-old, but that is exactly what Dr. Roberts saw when Don Eppes scowled and nodded his head. "Yeah, I understand."

"Good, something is sinking in. Remember this the next time you decide that you're 'feeling better'."

"Didn't say I agreed..."

Alan reached over and bopped his son on the head, gently. "Donnie - you WILL listen and DON'T smart-talk the doctor."

"He's not the first, Mr. Eppes. What Dr. Walker and I discussed was a course of treatment for you." Dr. Robert's looked at Alan. "Have you spoken with Dr. Walker regarding your son?"

Alan nodded. "Yes. I know she was concerned about the possible course of treatment aggravating the potential he's got for heart issues."

"Exactly. So, instead of the traditional course of heavy expectorants, we will let nature take its course. Lab work is being done on some of the 'stuff' Don hacked up earlier. Once I know exactly what it is then I'll be able being putting Don on an antibiotic as well as a fever reducer."

"So the IV's he's got at the moment ... just liquids?"

Dr. Robert's nodded. "Dr. Walker was concerned about your son being dehydrated and, frankly, so am I. However, with the IV he has now and the one that I'm ordering, that should take care of the problem."

"I already feel like I have to piss like a racehorse." Don muttered.

Dr. Roberts cleared his throat. "You already are, Agent Eppes."

"Again?" Don looked under the blankets for the first time. "That is SO not fair."

"Again, remember this when you think you're 'feeling better'." Dr. Roberts told him.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I'm going to go waltzing out of here carrying a pissbag."

"I don't trust you not to. There was a note in the report from the ER doctor that you were determined to leave AMA, only you could hardly move. And that's what stopped you."

Don colored but did not reply.

"Sounds like someone down there got your number in a hurry, Donnie." Alan mused. "About the only time his mother and I could keep Donnie in bed when he was sick was when he was so sick he couldn't move."

Dr. Roberts nodded. "Just like now. Bottom line Agent Eppes, just to completely ruin what's left of your day...you're going to be here," he pointed at the floor, "For two, maybe three days, depends on how long you remain contagious. After that, you'll be moved to a regular room and stay there for, at least, another 5 days."

"A week!?" Don protested, but further bellowing was curtailed by yet another coughing fit.

"At least." Dr. Roberts watched Don to see if he needed the basin again. "Your lungs are going to be completely clear before I even think of letting you out of here. You can fight it all you want but that will just slow things down. Got it?"

"He's got it." Alan answered for his pale and rather speechless son, who was nodding in agreement, even if he wasn't capable of actually talking at the moment.

"Good. I will be around in the morning to see how things are progressing." He looked at his watch. "Mr. Eppes, visiting hours will be ending shortly and, unless you've had your flu shot, I'd suggest leaving now." He looked out the door at the nurse's station. "Don't worry, the staff here has their ways of handling stubborn patients."

Alan nodded. "I've had my shot, but these chairs are still not back friendly. I sent his brother home earlier, so it's my turn." He turned to Don and clasped his son on the shoulder. "Now, Donnie, don't let me hear from the nurses how you tried to slip out of here. Relax and let them take care of you, all right?"

"Agent Eppes, Dr. Walker is just across the hall, she would not be at all happy to discover that you've been...'unbehaving' as my granddaughter would say."

Don nodded. "Elaine would probably shoot me - somewhere relatively harmless - if I tried to escape while she's here with Gary." He didn't, quite, start coughing again but Dr. Roberts could tell the temptation was there and it was only due to an iron will that the agent wasn't barking.

The doctor snorted. "I get that impression too. Good night, Agent Eppes." He slid the door open.

Alan was the last out of the room and as he watched, Dr. Roberts realized that Alan Eppes was no stranger to isolation procedures. He removed the mask first, then untied the gown and stripped the gloves off with it as he removed it and balled everything up before tossing it into the red biohazard hamper. It piqued Dr. Roberts' curiosity but he wasn't about to ask.

"Mr. Eppes, a moment more of your time?" He asked, after stripping off his Iso-gear.

"Sure." Alan was content to follow him as he led the way over toward the far end of the nursing station.

"First of all, your son should be just fine. Secondly, depending on the level of infection and the type of antibiotic I order, he might spend a large amount of time asleep. Give both you and me a break, hmm?"

"That would be welcomed. I'd like a week where I'm not finding new gray hairs every five minutes.

Dr. Roberts chuckled. "I do understand, truly. Is your other son in law enforcement as well?"

"No, thank goodness. He's a professor over at CalSci."

Dr. Roberts' forehead wrinkled for a moment, as if turning the name over in his mind, then his face cleared. "Doctor Charles Eppes?"

Alan looked a little startled. "Uh, yes."

"Believe it or not, Mr. Eppes, I am a bit of a mathematician myself and I've attended a couple of lectures your son has given. Absolutely fascinating. I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow. Until then, good night."

"All right ... what do you know?" Alan watched Dr. Roberts walk away. "Small world."

* * *

Later that same night, Gary awoke just in time to see Elaine walk back into his room. "Babe? What's wrong? You look like you saw a ghost." He asked.

"He's dead, they're just following procedures." She muttered, mostly to herself.

"Who's dead, 'Laney?"

She looked up as if seeing Gary for the first time. "Your shooter - he just coded in IC-1."

Gary held out a hand to her and Elaine took it in hers. "Elaine, no matter what, no matter how much it costs - if you need it, I'll hire the best damn attorney in the whole state to make sure you are not charged with his death."

She nodded. "I'm not sorry he's dead. Not at all."

"You shouldn't be ... I'm just sorry as hell you ever had to shoot someone."

She gave her husband a sad smile. "I wish I'd done it earlier like before he shot you."

Gary smiled at her. "Honey, that would've been a trick not even Merlin himself could've pulled off. I had no warning and neither did you. What's done is done and all we can do now is wait for me to heal up."

"Harry Potter I'm not." She ran a hand through her husband's hair, and then kissed him on the forehead.

"Thank gawd - I like women. Grown women." He turned his head to nuzzle her neck, without realizing it was the first real voluntary movement he'd made that way since the surgery.

But Elaine did. "Gary?"

"Hmm?"

"You moved your head without thinking."

"Huh?" He pulled back, moved his head again - this time thinking about it - and then smiled like a freaking idiot. "Well! Whaddayaknow? My 'fracked' body's making a come back."

A beautiful smile blossomed on Elaine's face. "I knew it. I knew it would happen." And then she kissed him on the lips.

They were still kinda absorbed in each other when the doctors in IC-1 called time of death and someone made the perquisite call to the Prosecuting Attorney's Office. The unit secretary hung up the phone after making the call and looked into IC-8, it just wasn't fair. Doctor Walker's husband was making good inroads toward recovering and now she was going to have to answer to possible charges.

It just wasn't fair.


	11. Chapter 11

See Disclaimer in Part One

**Part Eleven**

The next morning after visiting Don, Charlie made his way over to IC-8. Elaine spotted him and waved him inside He came in and stood by the door, suddenly quite shy. He didn't want to intrude and that's what he felt like he was doing.

Gary Walker was kinda-sorta sitting up in the bed, but there was little or no movement from the man's left side and the bandages covering the right side of his neck and upper shoulder...

Charlie suppressed a shudder as the Lieutenant greeted him. "Hello, Charlie. How are you doing?"

"Um...good. How are you?" Charlie winced mentally. That was a stupid question! He had never the lieutenant so still and it bothered him.

"Well, I've been better - but at least I'm still livin'." Gary quipped even as Elaine shook her head.

Charlie nodded.

"Elaine here tells me your brother got his self slapped into a room down the hall?"

Charlie concurred. "Double pneumonia. He got the flu and got kicked out of work and then he wouldn't stay in bed."

Gary snorted in laughter. "Always figured Don was a real piece of work." The Lieutenant crooked a grin. "So, you going to work on the case to see if your brother's team can find who put the bullet in my neck?"

Charlie flushed and swallowed. Lieutenant Walker had always been way too casual about things like being shot for his liking. "Um...yeah, if they ask."

Elaine reached over and tapped Gary on the jaw line. "Luv, stop that. You're not going to stay like this and, right now, your cavalier attitude about your injury is freaking Charlie out more than seeing his brother in the hospital again."

Gary gave a one-shouldered shrug. Or nearly did. "Yeah, well, I just don't know what the fuss is. Yes, I'm partially paralyzed, but even you said it wouldn't last, Elaine, so I'm not letting it get me down."

In spite of everything, Charlie grinned, well, almost. That was the Lieutenant Gary Walker he knew. "Elaine?" He asked.

"Yes, Charlie?" She answered even as she tucked a blanket back around Gary's waist.

"You said that you could tell me why it would take Don longer to get over this." He looked down at his watch. "I've got 45 minutes before I can go back in."

"True. Gary, I'll be right back, I'm going to show Charlie where the better cafe is in the hospital and tell him what he needs to know." She leaned over the bed and planted an affectionate kiss on the Lieutenant's cheek. "Behave and don't let me hear from the nurses how you pinched them, all right?"

"You are no fun, 'Laney."

Elaine shook her head and led Charlie out of the room and ICU.

Charlie followed Elaine, keeping his mouth shut. He didn't quite know what to say anyway.

The cafe in question was actually on the same floor as the Intensive Care Unit, and Elaine didn't say anything until after she purchased a large decaf coffee for herself and, despite his protests, paid for his small tea as well. "Charlie, I get a discount here - just smile and accept it, okay?"

He did. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She pointed toward a table in the corner of the spacious cafe, one that wasn't near any occupied tables, and Charlie took the hint to lead the way and waited for her to sit down before joining her. In the back of his mind, his mother was whispering at him to behave.

Elaine took a moment to sip her coffee before broaching the subject at hand. "Charlie, Don's going to heal up just fine, but in the meantime he's going to hurt - a lot - from the coughing which is his body's attempt to rid his lungs of the fluids that built up."

Charlie nodded. "I watched him coughing really bad in there. It was like he was going to hack up a lung or something."

"I've heard him. And that's just about right." She sipped her coffee again, then sat it back down on the table. "Okay, now as to why its going to take a little longer than usual to get him past the contagious stage of his stupidity..."

Charlie tried to hide his grin behind the tea he sipped at.

"Charlie, Don's is what we call in the business a 'potential cardiac patient' and, as such, we have to be very careful about what medications we place him on that could stress his heart into an infarction. You following me so far?"

Charlie nodded. A possible heart problem for Don was how he met Elaine in the first place. He swallowed and asked the question that had been hovering in the back of his mind since the heat stroke incident "Just how much of a candidate is he?"

Elaine's smile was gentle and very reassuring. "Not as much as it was when I first met him. He's taken fairly good care of himself - except for this bout with the flu-turned-walking-pneumonia."

Another nod. "So, because you have to be careful about what you give him, you might not be able to give him what would get him over this stage faster, is that what you're saying?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Instead of the 10-12 hours we could usually get a patient of Don's age and relative health back on his feet, we're going to have to use drugs that will almost double the time to 20-24 hours." Elaine picked up the cup in front of her again, but just held it instead of drinking from it. "As for the isolation get-ups ... I'm kinda responsible for that even though I'm not his immediate Doctor of Record."

"Trying to scare him straight?" Charlie asked, sipping the tea.

"You think it might work?"

Charlie shrugged. "I never know with Mister I-Have-A-Job-To-Do."

Elaine let out a long-suffering sigh. "Try living with more than one family member with that attitude." She looked up past his shoulder and her face brightened as she waved at someone. "Oh good, Charlie ... you're about to meet the other LEOs in my family." That was all the warning she gave him.

Charlie turned and saw two men and a woman approaching the table and he knew, without a doubt, that they had to be related to Elaine. They just had to be. Especially the younger of the two men.

"Mom, Dad, Chris ..." Elaine greeted them as the group approached the secluded table. "This is Charlie - excuse me, Doctor Charles Eppes of Cal Sci's Mathematics department. His brother was just admitted to a room down from Gary's." She turned to Charlie and introduced her family. "Charlie, this is my mother, Moira, my brother Chris, a lieutenant with LAPD SWAT, and my father, retired Commissioner Dan Donovan."

Charlie stood and shook hands with each member of Elaine's family. Again, in the back of his mind, his mother was telling him 'Stand up straight, don't slouch, firm handshake...' He eyed Christopher Donovan, and then looked back at Elaine. "Twins?" He asked.

Chris let out a snicker of laughter. "Impressive, no one's ever picked up on our 'twinliness' that fast, Elaine."

She merely nodded. "Well, Charlie is one of those CalSci brainiacs ... figures he'd suss it out in a hurry."

Charlie smiled. "When you said I was about to meet the other LEO's in your family, you weren't kidding. How come you didn't go into law enforcement?" The moment the words came out of his mouth, he wanted them back. It was none of his business.

Dan Donovan shook his head. "I wanted one member of the family who wouldn't be dodging bullets and, let's face it, Elaine doesn't have the temperament to be a simple secretary like her mother was."

Without thinking, Charlie snorted and said, "No, definitely not." And that earned him a friendly swat on the upper arm from his brother's cardiologist. "Not that you couldn't but you're much better suited to telling other people what to do...um...telling people what they should do—"

Elaine just nodded and took Charlie's words in stride. "Okay, we've been out of the Unit long enough for the staff to wonder where we got off to. Mom, Dad ... Gary's going to be all right, but he does have some transitional paralysis of the left side. Don't fuss about it, okay?"

Elaine's parents shared a look but both nodded.

Charlie looked down at his watch. He could go back in and see Don again but the thought of having to put all that stuff back on... He shook his head.

"I am NOT glossing things over." Elaine spun on her heel and, surprising Charlie no end, grabbed his arm and hauled him out of the cafe with her, leaving her family to catch up with them. "I will not stand there while they think I'm losing my mind."

"I didn't say you were." Charlie sputtered, practically having to run to keep up with Elaine.

"Sorry... Mom and Dad, even Chris to a milder extent, think Gary's never going to recover and he'll be permanently paralyzed from this."

Charlie frowned. "But you said he wasn't, he said he wasn't. Neither one of you is lying, right?"

"NO!" Elaine blazed to a halt just outside the doors to ICU. "He's going to be fine and a right bear through the physical therapy, but Doctor Basse is nearly 90 certain that Gary will regain total use of his extremities." She shook her head. "To be truthful, Charlie, I'm more concerned with the idea I'll end up in prison because I shot the man who shot Gary."

Charlie frowned. "What? How could…?"

"The shooter died last night. Right here in the ICU. Two doors up from your brother."

Charlie shook his head. "No, you won't. Don will make sure of that. If for no other reason, then he'd have to get another cardiologist that would put up with him." He grinned.

She let out a laugh and was still chuckling as she opened the door to the unit and then helped Charlie get back into his Fashion Gear. He'd just stepped into the room when Elaine's folks and brother came into the unit and passed Don's room on their way to Gary's. From the plastic looks on their faces, the parents were trying to convince themselves their daughter was right, whereas Chris actually had an expression that said he believed his sister believed even if he really didn't.

* * *

There was a not quite a surprise visitor to Don later that morning. Colby properly gowned, slid open the door to IC-4 and walked in. Alan was seated in a chair next to the bed, working on something spread out in his lap.

"Colby..." Don wheezed. "What are you doing here?"

Colby grinned even though Don couldn't see it behind his mask. "I heard that Megan nearly ripped your head off at a crime scene, I wanted to come by and see if she had left anything."

"Ha, ha." Don managed to say before a coughing fit over took him.

Colby waited, and then waved Alan back down into the chair he was in and fetched the emesis basin for Don. When Don was done hacking up a kidney, he set it down on the counter near the sink.

"Thanks." Don whispered, the coughing leaving him red faced and gasping.

"You're welcome. From what I hear, she didn't leave much left untouched on David either. She was not a happy camper with him."

"She shouldn't have chewed on him - David was only doing what I'd asked."

"True but you had no business being out there, you knew it and you leaned on David anyway. You shouldn't have put him in that position." Alan scolded from his seat.

Don nodded, admitting he was wrong without actually saying anything. "So, the only reason you came _–cough-_ was to see if I was in one piece?"

"I just wanted to see if anything was left. She must have taken the majority of her aggression out on David." Colby looked at Alan. "Do you mind if we talk shop?"

Alan shook his head. "Not at all. Before you do though, how are your parents?"

"Fine. Mom asks about you every time I call. Dad too."

"Well, they _can_ come to L.A. without you being deathly ill, you know. There's always room."

"I'll tell Mom that." Colby paused and said, "Almost forgot ---Mom and Dad would like you to come up to Idaho whenever you'd like."

Alan smiled. "That's very kind of them." He looked at Don. "If I could keep this one out of the hospital for longer than a month, I'd take them up on it."

"Hey! It's not like I'm in here as often ... oh, wait. Guess we're tied, aren't we, Granger?"

Colby fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, I guess we are. Although, I think Alan's been way more enduring than either my mom or dad would have been. I can hear my mom now, 'What do you mean you though it was just a cold...haven't I raised you better than that'?"

Alan grinned. "I'm bucking for sainthood."

"Hey, I'll vote for you." Colby said to him. Looking back at Don, he added, "We got the guy who shot Lieutenant Walker."

"You did? When did that happen? I've been watching the news all day and nothin'."

"Yesterday." Colby replied. "David and I found him in the car that had been used during the robbery, mostly dead."

"Mostly dead? So he's alive?" Don asked.

"Not any more. He died last night from his '_injuries_' but he did talk a little bit before he croaked. Remind me never to piss off Dr. Walker." Colby replied.

"I thought Dr. Walker was quite nice." Alan said. "Especially seeing who she has to deal with."

"She can be nice, Mister Eppes, she can also make hardened law officers think about pulling their gun on her. She's a good spouse for Gary Walker." Colby said.

"'Mister Eppes'? What happened to 'Alan'? Do I have to call your mother, Colby?" Alan asked him.

"No, sir - just take my word for it. Do NOT make Doc Walker mad." Colby replied.

Don sat up even as he nodded in agreement. "Elaine's scary when she's mad. What did the perp say before he kicked the bucket?"

"He said he was just the hired help. He didn't know much beyond the basics of that particular robbery, but he did say that he thought the ringleader was building up to a much bigger score."

"Bigger score? And he had no idea what or where that might be?" Don asked, his brain running at 90mph.

"Yeah. The impression I got from him was each robbery was a build up to the next one and then there was one big score at the very end."

"Makes a twisted kinda sense. Sort of a planned escalation with a jackpot at the end." Don mused. "Maybe Charlie could come up with something to give us--" He caught his father's glare, "--the team an idea of just how large that final 'score' might be."

"If your brother has the time." Alan looked at Colby. "Apparently, the summer sessions at CalSci are just as intensive as the Fall and Spring sessions but with far less time. Charlie barely has a moment to eat, let alone do any consulting."

Don made a slight noise of agreement. "Yeah, he's busy, but it couldn't hurt to ask. Maybe he could recommend a grad student to crunch the stats."

"Well, we might be able to figure out what to do...I've been paying attention to him." Colby replied, with a smile aimed at Alan. "Here's something, he said that the ringleader had a day job in the area. He knew because the guy was always bitchin' about it."

Don looked up at his youngest agent. "Day job in the area? Hmm... Probably a salary man or something like that." He rubbed his chin. "You sure you want to try to crunch numbers like that, Granger? It's not exactly everyday math."

"Well...if it's too hard for me, I can always come by and give it to you. Keep you from getting bored and all that."

Don grimaced then shrugged. "Yeah, right. Math to keep me busy ... but, yeah, I guess I could give it a shot."

"Don't fall all over yourself accepting that Donnie. You wouldn't be in this mess if you had listened to reason." Alan told him.

"Apparently, the whole thing with the Walkers was 'wrong place, wrong time'. The shooter knew Lieutenant Walker and when the El - Tee walked in the door, decided to take advantage of the situation." Colby told Don.

Don nodded. Sometimes being a LEO meant you took chances even in your civilian life - but you didn't have to like it. "How's Elaine handling this? Prosecutor's Office is probably looking into the shooting, aren't they?"

Colby nodded. "From what I understand the case has been handed to Stark."

"Stark the shark?" Don winced. "He's got killer instincts, but if he's really has come over to the right side of the law, he'll know it was a justifiable shoot."

"That's about all the perp had to say. I'm amazed I got that much from him. Gut shot, hell of a way to die."

"Ouch!" This time the wince was more exaggerated. "No kidding, nothing like a painful lingering death to make you rethink your life's path."

Alan cleared his throat and, at the same time, there was a knock on the glass. Colby turned and saw a nurse on the other side point at her watch.

"Oops, time's up. When they say 15 minutes...they mean it."

"Yeah, the only one they don't seem to mind staying in here past that is Dad."

Alan snorted. "That's because if I wasn't here, they'd have to have someone in here anyway, just to make sure you didn't try to leave."

Colby swallowed the laugh that threatened to come out. "Boss, even I wasn't so bad as to try to escape when I was hospitalized ... relax and see if you can get a nurse to help you with a bed bath or something."

That got a real chuckle from Alan. "Some of the nurses here are quite attractive Donnie."

Another knock.

"Okay, before they come in and drag me out...I'll come back when I've got more info. Alan...good luck."

Alan nodded.

Colby left Don's room and, under the baleful glare of a nurse, disrobed, took off the mask and washed his hands. "Thank you." He said to her.

Feeling brave, he made his way across the hall to Lt. Walker's room. He knocked on the doorframe. "Doctor Walker?"

Elaine put the book down she was reading and looked up at him. "Agent Granger. Come to see Don?"

Colby nodded. "Yes, ma'am. But I wanted to speak with Lieutenant Walker too. If that's all right?" He was extremely polite and respectful. The last thing he wanted to do was hack the doc off even more than she already was.

She looked over toward Gary, who was slowly waking back up from a catnap, and made a decision. "That will - unfortunately - be up to him. If I had my way, no one would talk to him until sometime next week."

"So, may I come in?"

Elaine stood up, approached Gary's side and waved Colby into the room. She bent down to whisper into the Lieutenant's ear. "Gary? Gary-hon, Agent Granger is here to see you."  
Gary's eyes popped open and looked to the side where Elaine stood. "Granger? Well, okay, tell him to move where I can see him."

Colby walked in, blocking out the two times he'd been in the lieutenant's place.

Elaine nodded and pointed to the other side of the bed. "Gary's still having mobility issues, Agent Granger. You need to stand where he can see you without twisting his head and neck too much."

Colby nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He moved around to the other side of the bed, standing in the lieutenant's line of sight. He didn't look that bad all told, with the exception of the bandages swathing his neck and shoulder, he looked, almost, normal.

"Lieutenant Walker..."

"Hey, Granger. How's it going?"

Colby shrugged. "Could be better. Did you two get the card Mom sent? From when you came by to see me when I was …" He gestured at the surrounding room, still not comfortable with the idea that he'd nearly died a second time.

"Yeah, we did." Gary's right hand reached up and patted Elaine's hand where it rested on the edge of his bed. "'Laney...I get the impression Granger's here to talk shop and, well--"

Elaine nodded. "Yeah, I got that impression too." She leaned over and gave her husband a peck on the cheek. "I'll be back in a little bit."

Gary waited until Elaine was gone. "Nothing against her, she's a damn fine woman, but Elaine did shoot my shooter and, as such, can't hear too much about the progression of the investigation."

Colby nodded. "We have the name of the shooter. That's why I came by to see if it rang any bells. You'll love this but, apparently, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Gary let out a small chuckle. "Doesn't that just figure? Nearly 17 years on the force, and the one time I get shot enough to worry about dying...and it was a case of oops!"

Colby almost smiled. "Apparently, he recognized you and figured it was time for payback. His name was Joel Veltre. That mean anything to you?"

"That SOB? Elaine was right, I was responsible for sending his brother to San Que." Gary closed his eyes and started to tap the fingers of his right hand on the bedspread. "Veltre, Veltre ... yeah, okay. Joel was a two-bit hood who ran around East LA. Hung with fringe members from both the MS13 and Mexicali gangs."

Colby took out a notepad and scribbled down what Lieutenant Walker said. "What was his brother sent to San Que for?"

"Jessup Veltre, Jesse, was sent up for a couple of really sweet charges ... Murder, robbery, rape...Nice guy."

Another nod from Colby. "Joel claimed he was the hired help, that jive with what you know about him?"

Gary blinked a few times in lieu of nodding. "Yeah, not exactly the brightest bulb in the Veltre family garden. About all I can see Joel doing - other than shooting me in the back - is being the muscle-man or tour guide for someone with actual brains."

Colby scribbled some more. "I also got that each robbery was a step up to bigger job with some final monster pay out in the near future. Can you think of anything or anyone that might fit that description? Anyone connected to Veltre maybe?"

Gary snorted in laughter. "Right, Veltre hanging out with someone with brains like that. Where are all the robberies - other than my funfest - taking place?"

Colby listed off a pawnshop on West Beverly Boulevard, a jewelry store near the north end of the UCLA campus and the army surplus store in Little Tokyo. "The big concern about the last one is that the owner was selling C-4, out of disarmed land mines."

"Yeah, that would make me sit up and take note." Gary brought his right hand up and started tapping the bedrail. "That area of the city isn't as wide as you might think -looking at a map - you want to find someone there with the connections to Veltre ... check with the Probation and Parole officers. IF they have a client working the area, they might be able to help you chase down an informant or two."

"That is a great idea." Colby flipped over a page in the notebook and kept writing. When he was done, he looked up at the Lieutenant. "Hey, you ever get bored with LAPD, the Bureau would be happy to have you."

Gary let out a full laugh. "Not on your life, Granger! I don't mind working with a few feds, but become one? No way in hell."

"I'll take that as a no." Colby gave a quick look around the room, making sure Dr. Walker wasn't hovering in the doorway, waiting to chew him up and spit him out. He took a step closer to the bed and asked, in a lowered voice, "What are your chances?"

"High enough that I'm going to kick your young butt from here clear back to Idaho once I'm out of this bed."

Colby grinned and stepped back. "I was just checking, just wanting to make sure we didn't have to break in another LAPD puke, ya know."

"You're all heart, Granger." Gary's eyes flickered off to one side and his face brightened up. "Hey, 'Laney. You have a nice break away from this old grouch?"

"You're not grouchy, Gary." She looked at Colby. "You done here, Granger, or should I take another walk around the unit and pester your boss again?"

Colby took his time thinking. "Boy, the idea of you tormenting Don is tempting," He shook his head. "No, I'll give him a break. I'm done. Thank you."

Elaine reached out and touched Colby on the upper arm as she passed him getting back to Gary's side. "Thank you, Granger. He's been pestering me, wanting to know what I knew about the case, I'm just glad someone was able to set his mind at ease."

Colby smiled. "You're welcome. Out of all the people who came to see me, you two are the ones that stood out in my folk's minds. You and Che Lobo."

"That reminds me..." Gary spoke up. "How in the hell did you get to know Che Lobo, Granger?"

Colby looked over at Elaine. "Are you going to throw me out?"

"I'm afraid so. Gary - Colby can tell you that story after you're out of ICU, okay?"

Gary nodded.

"Um...My mom does want to know though...have you bitten any more patients?" Colby asked, with a straight face.

Elaine let out a chortle of laughter. "No, not recently. Everyone's been behaving."

"I'll tell her when I talk to her next. Try not to give the nurses too hard a time, Lieutenant. Between you and Don, they'll be demanding hazard pay." Colby said, in way of a goodbye.


	12. Chapter 12

See Disclaimer in Part One

**Part Twelve**

The map spread before them, with the robberies marked, had the answers to the case. If only they knew where to look to see them. There was a mountain of information to go with the map; robbery reports, crime scene photos, and witness statements. Maybe there was too much information.

"Man, the answer is here, it has to be." Colby groused wearily. He straightened up from bending over the maps.

"I agree. So, what's the answer?" David asked, sitting down in the nearest chair.

Colby bent back over the map again, his eyes flicking from one location to the next. "I don't know." He finally admitted. "But there's something here, we're not seeing."

"Too bad Charlie's snowed under at CalSci, we could really use his help on this." David said.

Colby nodded absently, his mind on the puzzle before him. "What did the surplus store owner say again?"

David climbed to his feet and went digging through the stack of reports. "You mean other than 'I didn't know there was still C-4 in those land mines'?" He extracted the report he was looking for, scanned the contents and said, "According the owner, 'The guy was real, real interested in getting his hands on some explosives and he didn't care how or where he got 'em. I asked 'cause that stuff's illegal to sell ya' know. He just laughed and said he had a really big safe to crack. Then the bastard pulled a gun on me and robbed me'." David looked up from the report. "You got something?"

Colby frowned, staring hard at the map. "Maybe…" he muttered. "A really big safe…" He said to himself. A moment more of staring, then he squeezed his eyes shut, opened them and looked away from the map. "Find a really big safe on that map." He dropped into a vacant chair, squeezing the bridge of his nose to relieve the pressure that was building behind his eyes.

David took up Colby's task of scanning the map, assessing and tossing one location after another until a memory surfaced. "Wait…"

"What?" Colby asked.

"The reason we were called to the very first robbery. The detective there, he had a pamphlet from the Federal Reserve in an evidence bag. Don didn't think much of it, neither did the detective or I. We all thought some tourist had probably dropped it but it fits. It's weird but it fits. It's the only thing that does. A really big safe. What would be a bigger safe than the Fed?" David looked at his partner, a glint of excitement dancing in his chocolate brown eyes.

Colby got to his feet and looked at where David's finger was resting. "I'll get Megan."

* * *

"I can't take this ... _theory_ to Wright. He'll think we're nuts." Megan said, after looking at the map and listening to David's theory.

"He already thinks we're nuts." David offered.

"That's true enough." Colby agreed. "Probably because we're part of the 'chosen few' who can put up with Eppes." He blinked in an owlish fashion, and then unthinkingly blurted out what next came to mind. "Both of them."

Megan looked at Colby. "When was the last time you had more than an hours worth of sleep, Granger?"

"Depends ... what day of the week is this?"

She flinched when he broke into a jaw-breaking yawn that, literally, popped his jaw loud enough for her to hear it. "Okay, you have two choices." She said to him. "You can go downstairs and sleep in the crash room or you can go home." She paused. "On second thought, I don't want you behind the wheel of anything." She pointed toward the elevator. "Go downstairs and I'll be checking to see if you got there."

Even bone crushing and ass-dragging tired, Colby still managed to make a snarky little comment. "You want to come tuck me in too?"

Megan grinned and patted him on the shoulder. "Nah ... I don't like you that much."

"Dad will be so crushed... he likes you." He let out yet another huge yawn before faltering up to his feet and shuffling off toward the elevators and, eventually, the crash room.

Megan next looked at David. "Are you going to fall asleep on me too?"

David shook his head. "No. If I'd known he was that tired, I never would've let him push me into taking a catnap earlier in the car."

"I swear, he's been spending too much time around Don. He's starting to act like him." Megan said.

"Not really. I understand, from talking with Gigi and Cat mind you, that Colby's pretty much _always_ pushed himself to his absolute limits."

She nodded. "That makes a weird kind of sense, you know."

David shook his head and looked over at Reeves from his desk. "How do you mean?"

"He's the baby of the family. He had three other brothers to live up to. Like he was just going to sit there and do nothing."

"Sounds to me like you have a deep and personal understanding of our Colby James Granger's mindset and motivation."

Megan grinned. "When you're the baby of the family-- You got any siblings, David?"

"Just my slightly more 'mature' sister, Linda."

"That's right, you've mentioned her before. Older or younger?"

"Older, by 19 months. Mom realized the 'problem' and stopped after I was born." He grinned at Megan, almost daring her not to realize what he was saying. And promptly got smacked.

"David Sinclair!"

"Ow! Damn, Megan ... remind me not to pick you as a bare-knuckles sparring partner!" He rubbed the bicep where she'd connected.

"I will. Now, since this was your brainchild, can you come up with more reasoning so I can take it Wright and not look like a fool?"

"I've been trying to figure that out since Colby and I came up with it, and it's just not wanting to gel together for me." He had stacked all the notes and reports on the various robberies in chronological order in a couple of large files. "The information is in there, we know it is, but it's so scattered apart - time wise - that it's hard to really make any solid connections. These guys are playing their game plan according to a schedule and are careful not to deviate too much from it."

She made a face. "So, this is all you've got?"

He nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"Great. Based on this, do you think they'll strike somewhere else or go for the Fed?"

David shrugged. "Honestly?" She nodded and he carefully answered, "I think it depends on whatever their plan is. If they've gotten everything they think they need then, yes, the Fed is probably their next target. If not ... then we can expect a few more strikes elsewhere before the main event."

Megan sighed, looked at the meager information before and decided to go for it. "At least, if Wright laughs me out of the office, our ass will be covered if they do strike the Fed and weren't warned."

"True." He looked back over at her. "You want me to come with you when you approach Wright about this? Moral support? A willing sacrifice on the altar of expediency?"

"Sure, why not? Maybe if we're both there, he can't laugh both of us out, can he?"

David got up, securing the files in his left arm before patting her on the back with his free hand. "Nice to see you haven't lost your innocence in your years of service. Trust me, if he wants to laugh us out of his office, Wright will do it and do so with glee."

"Yeah, I know but I can hope can't I?" She smiled in return. "And you are a little too snarky for your own good."

"Yeah, well, blame that on Eppes ... He pretty much trained me in the fine art of snark." He admitted as he followed Megan to the elevator that would take them to see Wright, and possibly end their stellar records as crime solvers.

* * *

Wright didn't laugh them out of his office. He took them seriously, listening especially close when David related his theory of the Federal Reserve Bank being _a really big safe_. That conversation led to Megan and ADA Wright making a trip to the Federal Reserve Branch Bank in downtown Los Angeles. Which led to a conversation with the head of security at the Fed which led to another conversation with the Board of Governors of Fed and it was _that_ conversation that led into a plan that, hopefully, would end the robberies with no one else getting hurt or killed.

* * *

"Colby ... you need a haircut. Badly!" David teased his partner a few days later.

"Put a sock in it." Colby replied, trying not to scratch at the wig he was wearing.

"Well, you've gone to one extreme-- Why not try bald and beautiful?"

Colby rolled his eyes. "'Cause I had that look in boot camp and swore I'd never go back. Thank you VERY much."

"Aw...I bet the ladies just LOVED that look."

"Bite me, David." Colby reached around and grabbed his own buttock, "Right here. Bite me."

"Not on your best day." David replied.

"Will you two behave?" Megan finally choked out, trying not to laugh even more. "You sure you're ready for this, Colby?"

"Ready as I'll ever be to be a target." He quipped.

"And such a handsome target he is." David said, making kissing noises and staying out of reach of Colby's arms.

"Keep it up, David, and I'll set the two of you loose in the gym ... or the crash room." Megan replied.

For the most part, Colby tried not to dignify Megan's rebuke as he double-checked his gear and made sure his throat mic was well hidden from casual view under the banded collar of his crewneck tee shirt.

"All right, Mr. Target, let's go." Megan said.

"Right." Without thinking about it, Colby grabbed up the ball cap from his desk and pulled it on over the wig with the "FBI" emblazoned emblem facing backwards. Now his look was complete. Anyone seeing him would swear he was a country hick working as a wannabe rent-a-cop and not worth fretting over.

* * *

Sitting in the back of the armored truck with one other guard, one who really was hired by the Knights Armored Truck Company and, therefore, a known face, Colby was not happy. This would be the first of several set-ups that would put either himself or David or even Megan into the _hot seat_ until they nabbed the wannabe robbers. The spring day had turned from chilly in the early morning hours when he'd done his usual five mile run to down right sultry as the day progressed and there was little, or no, air circulation in the back of the heavily armored vehicle. 

Trying to keep his balance on the rickety drop seat as the driver did his dead level best to find – and hit – every single pothole on the route made Colby slightly more miserable and with the hair of the wig he was wearing, sticking to the back of his sweaty neck, made him more snappish than usual. Something the real guard discovered in a hurry when he tried to engage in small talk and Granger had basically told him to stuff it. Sideways.

_'Granger, be nice. You might have to work with him again if the thieves don't hit today.' _Reeves' voice broke his reverie and caused Colby to focus again on the task at hand.

Thumbing the remote key for his throat mic, he responded quietly to his temporary boss. "I'll remind you of that when you're stuck in this hotbox later this month, Megan. See if you can keep your temper in here."

_'Maybe I should take David's place … he's been a little short tempered the last few weeks.' _He could almost hear her smile. '_Heads up, CeeJay, gate coming up.'_

He almost regretted his teammates finding out his family nickname … but then again, he was happy he'd survived, both times, for them to use it to get his attention. "Roger that, Reeves." Colby turned to the other man in the back with him. "Remember, if the thieves hit today, you're to offer no resistance, that's my department. Got that?" The man, a retired Orange County Deputy, nodded his compliance.

There was a squeal of breaks as the truck came to a stop, the muffled mummer of voices as the driver and the lone guard on the gate exchanged a few words, then came the rattle of the gate rolling open and the truck lurched forward once again. Colby thought he heard the rather distinctive sound of a skull being smashed, but shook his head as he realized it was impossible to hear something like that through the steel and titanium walls and floor of the truck.

The truck once again came to a squealing halt, he heard the driver get out and then, as pre-arranged, knocked a certain code rap ('shave and a haircut') on the door and the retired deputy riding with Colby unlocked the inner lock and unstepped the latch. A firm push on the door popped the thing open and the older guard jumped down onto the dock and turned back to face Colby, just as someone wearing a nylon hood stepped up behind him and shoved …something into the older man's back.

"Just relax, Gramps, and no one will get hurt." The thug, and another who just showed up next to him, looked into the truck but apparently couldn't see Colby hiding in the shadows. The idiots had not planned for a bright sunny day and weren't wearing sunglasses so they couldn't see into the much darker interior of the truck without actually stepping into it. "No one else in there, go grab the bags." The thug with the retiree ordered his partner, who stepped up into the truck and stood there waiting as his eyes fought to adjust to the dimness.

Colby didn't give him the time to fully adjust before he stealthily approached him, swung him around with a push to the shoulder then used a sleeper hold to drop him without a sound. He'd barely had had time to whisper to Reeves, "It's going down now – loading dock." He looked back out the door to see the first ruffian forcing the other guard to his knees while a yet another one was dropping the driver to the asphalt beside the older man.

He spoke softly into the throat mic, "One down, inside the truck; two others on the dock behind the regular security crew."

_'Don't do anything stupid, Colby, we're coming. Should be there in a minute.'_

"Better make it faster … I'm running out of options with no place to run." He watched, more than a little worried as the first criminal approached the back of the truck, clearly wondering what was taking his partner in crime so long. Colby didn't give him a chance either. He grabbed the top of the door and, using his body weight he lifted up and swung his steel-toed combat boots into the man's stomach, then dropped out of the vehicle and aimed his Springfield at the third criminal. "Drop it before I drop you, dirt bag."


	13. Chapter 13

See Disclaimer in Part One

**Part Thirteen**

It was a smog free day in L.A. with crystal clear blue skies and a moderate temperature somewhere in the 70's when Don Eppes and Gary Walker were released from U.C.L.A. Medical Center. Don, his lungs finally clear after ten days of coughing himself hoarse. Gary Walker, well enough, to be released into the care of his wife, a M.D. in her own right.

Neither one wasn't done healing yet.

Gary would be going to a rehab center on a regular schedule for physical therapy. He was doing 1,000 percent better than when he had been brought in but he was still, at least, six weeks away from returning even to light duty.

Not quite the same fate lay in store for Don. He was only sidelined for three more weeks but even that was going to be a struggle for him. Still both men were quite happy, for the moment anyway, to be wheeled out the front door of the hospital to where their families, close and extended, were waiting for them.

Every person on Gary Walker's Gang Interdiction Unit that _wasn't_ on duty was waiting for him. Also waiting were the members of Don's team. There was no contest in which group made the most noise; Gary simply had more people. They whooped and hollered and clapped and, in general, made quite a scene. It was the only time that Don had ever seen Gary turn beet red. Elaine missed whooping and shouting because she had gone to fetch her SUV but her brother, having taken over the driving of brother-in-law's wheelchair, was witness to the outpouring and would make certain she knew about it.

"Don't you people have somewhere to be?" Gary demanded.

"Not at the moment, El Tee." Sergeant Ana Torres responded. She looked down at her watch. "My shift doesn't start until 3 p.m." She cast a look back at the others. "What about you guys?"

There were a few nods but a few "I gotta go's." too.

Gary just sat there, speechless. It was the first time Don could remember him being speechless but not for long. "Not a word, Eppes. Not one single word."

Don put on his most innocent face. "I didn't say a thing."

"You didn't have to."

Further conversation between the two was stopped when Elaine's SUV pulled up to the entrance. Gary, eager to be gone, made to stand up and walk to the SUV without help. Elaine would have none of it.

"STOP!" Her voice cut through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea for her. "You so much as try to get up without assistance, Gary, and - so help me - I'll drop kick you clear to the Canadian border."

"I'm not an invalid, woman." He grumped at her.

"No, you're still wounded." She came over to him, placed the brakes on the wheelchair, and then nodded to her brother. "Okay, Chris, just like the techs showed you down in PT." Elaine watched the SWAT Lieutenant like a hawk, making sure he didn't pull up on Gary's left arm as he helped his brother-in-law up out of the chair and walk the few paces to the passenger side of her GMC Denali.

As Elaine was settling her husband into the SUV, Alan pulled his car up behind her. Don, not so encumbered by a body turned traitor, hopped up out of the wheelchair the hospital's policy insisted he had to use, just as eager as Gary to be gone but he wasn't getting away without a few words from Elaine either.

"Don, if I even think I hear of you giving your father a hard time, you will join Gary on his trip across the Canadian border." She said, giving him a _look_.

"I'll behave, Doc. I have no wish to see the Calgary Flames play in person." Don replied.

"You'd better. I'll know if you don't." She pointed at him.

Don glanced over the hood of the Denali at her. "You've got spies everywhere, don't you?"

She smiled but did not answer.

"Can I get that promise notarized?" Alan asked, walking up to his son. "I heard the whole thing."

Don rolled his eyes but did not respond.

Sergeant Torres stepped up. "Certainly, sir. I'm a notary. You want it done now or later?" Her smile was saccharine sweet.

Alan smiled. "Now would be fine."

"Aw, come on…can't I get a break here?" Don pleaded with her.

A loud laugh from the Denali was heard clear back to Alan's car. It was the first time in a long time that Gary had had a reason to laugh.

"Give up, Eppes. I trained my people right." Gary said, poking his head out the window of Elaine's Denali.

"Whatever, I know who's the real power between you two." Don shot back.

"Yeah, well, you know the old saying ... behind every powerful man is the woman who lets him be that way."

"And this woman is going. See you around, Eppes." Elaine's voice came back to Don. She then leaned out through the passenger side window. "Can I give you a lift, Chris?"

Chris shook his head. "My car's here. Thanks anyway, sis."

Elaine disappeared from view, the Denali pulling away from the entrance a moment later.

"Your turn, Donny." Alan said to him, holding open the door.

"About time," Don replied. "Thank you for coming and getting me, Pop."

Alan snorted. "You're welcome but it's not like I'm going to let you out of my sight for the next three weeks."

Don colored in response, then looked over at his team, standing there. He frowned and repeated Gary's earlier statement. "Don't you all have somewhere to be?"

Megan grinned and shook her head. "Actually no. Since we caught the gang that was knocking over the jewelry stores, ADA Wright gave all of us the day off."

Colby and David nodded in agreement. "We wanted to come down and see you off." David said.

"Make sure you didn't try to drive yourself home." Colby added.

"I'm not as incompetent as all of you make me out to be." Don complained but secretly glad that they had come. He got in his father's car and slammed the door shut.

Colby waited until Don was in the car and couldn't hear him before pulling Alan aside. "Alan, Dad said if you need it ... he'll FedEx you the 'real stuff', cuffs and everything else, to you to keep Don locked down."

Alan grinned. "Tell your father _thank you_ but it shouldn't be needed."

"Not today, maybe not even this week ... but do you really think you and Charlie can keep Don in hand for three weeks of enforced leave?"

Alan smiled a truly frightening smile. "I have my ways, Colby."

Colby laughed full and loud. "I bet you do. Call me if you need any help, even if it's just with chores around the house."

"Will do. I'll get you to come and baby sit."

"Anything. Even that ... as long as there is beer and chess involved."

Alan nodded, waved a hand at the team and got in the car. "More than ready to get out of here, Donnie?"

Don shook his head. "I've been more than ready for the last five days."

* * *

The surprises of the day weren't only for Gary. There was a whopper in store for Don. When Alan turned the car into the driveway, there was a sign hanging from the front porch stating:

_**WELCOME HOME DON!**_

Don saw it and groaned. "Who's idea was that?"

Alan caught sight of the sign. "Gee, where did that come from?"

Don _looked_ at his father but Alan was innocence personified.

The sign was only the beginning. Alan ushered his son out of the car and into the back yard where Charlie and Amita were in the midst of setting up for a party. Charlie saw his father come in over his shoulder and turned, saying, "Dad, you said you'd call before leaving the hospital."

Alan shrugged. "Sorry, didn't have the time. Had I tried to make a phone call, your brother would have taken the keys and driven home himself."

Don flushed a most becoming shade of red. He opened his mouth to say something but Charlie appeared, at his elbow. "C'mon, bro, you know we're all just teasing you. And sometimes you make it real easy."

Don looked him, started to say something but stopped and smiled instead. "Just don't get carried away."

"Never." Charlie replied with a huge grin. "We have set aside a seat of honor for you. Over there, next to the picnic table and the radio."

Don turned and saw his favorite lounge chair from the living room. He looked back at his brother. "How?"

Charlie simply shook his head and shooed his brother over to the chair.

In short order, Megan, Larry, David and Colby arrived bearing food and other things. And the surprises kept coming. Elaine and Gary arrived, followed by her brother Chris and Sgt. Ana Torres. In no time, the air was full of laughter, talk and the heavenly scent of cooking meat.

Seated next to Don in another lounge chair liberated from the living room, Gary eyed Don. "Just how lucky are we?" he asked.

Don looked at Gary. "Way, way too lucky." He replied.

"Amen to that."

They clinked the bottles they were both holding.

A shriek from the other side of picnic table made both men jump, Gary looked ready to climb out of the chair. "'Laney?! What's wrong?"

Elaine responded by dragging Chris and Ana over to him, a huge grin on her face. "Look!" she said, pointing at Ana's hand.

Gary did, taking in a simple gold ring with a small sapphire set in the middle. He looked up at Ana and grinned. "A Donovan, huh? Good luck, Ana."

"I've got a good example." She replied.

"Yeah ... may lightning strike twice in the same family and in the same unit." Gary said in response.

More surprises were in store for Don. Megan and the rest of the team had brought several _presents_ but not for Don, they were for Alan. Handcuffs from Megan, a belly chain and belt from Colby, several feet of rope from David, a rolling pin from Elaine and another set of handcuffs from Charlie courtesy of ADA Wright.

"Hopefully, you'll be able to put these to good use and keep Don from winding up in the hospital again." Megan told Alan.

"Well, yes, I think I will." Alan replied.

"I'm not that bad." Don sputtered.

With Gary and the rest of the party howling with laughter, Elaine leaned over and patted Don on the shoulder. "Take it from your cardiologist, yes, you are." She looked back at the _gifts_ and said to Alan, a twinkle in her eye. "Why Alan, I had no idea you were into this kind of thing."

"Usually, I'm not ... however, with a stubborn child like Don ... I've become adaptable." Alan quipped.

Don sighed and gave into the ribbing. Like he really had anything to complain about. He had a good job and a good family. What else could he want?


	14. Chapter 14

This is a part that should've been included in the story, but was somehow overlooked in the hours & hours and pages & pages of chat dialogue and story development that flew between AmyD and myself. --Suis--

**Part 14**

Missing Scene

**Sick, Shot and Snarling**

AmyD & Suisan

* * *

"Charge her? What for? The doofus was dumb enough to rob a jewelry store as a cop walks in?" he snorted. "Waste of my time."

"You will do what I tell you to and, from what I've read, it's worth looking into. Why should the spouse of a law enforcement officer be permitted to 'get away' with murder?"

"You charge Doctor Walker with Veltre's murder; I'll quit and defend her. Pro Bono!"

The DA of Los Angeles County, Leo Cutler, stared at him, as if trying to determine just how serious he was about his threat – more of a promise really – about quitting. He stayed where he was, standing in front of the man's desk, trying not to laugh in Leo's face, but it was so hard to act impassive, especially in this situation.

"Fine, Stark." Cutler got to his feet. "The District Attorney's office won't charge Doctor Donovan-Walker with anything. In fact, you can tell her that and give the press release to that effect." Leo straightened his tie and moved out from behind his desk. "Now, if you don't mind, I have an appointment with Hiz Honor."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Don't be late for the ring kissing, Leo."

"I won't be, now that I'm tossing the shark to the vultures."

Deputy DA Sebastian Stark allowed himself a smile. Cutler was a little too quick by half but he was, unfortunately and only until the next election, his boss. "Always a pleasure talking with you Leo."

- - - - - - - -

"Thanks for agreeing to come with me, Isaac. I'm not sure I could've gotten past the 'police blockade' that was bound and determined to keep me from even laying eyes on Doctor Walker."

Isaac Wright shrugged. "Can ya blame 'em, Stark?" He helped clear a path for Sebastian though the Lobby of UCLA's Medical Center wasn't as crowded with a wall of blue as the area outside the main entrance had been.

The man with the well-earned nickname of _The Shark_ shook his head. "No. I'd keep me from me if I'd shot my husband's shooter too."

"I didn't know you were that kind of person, Stark." Isaac cracked.

"Oh, Isaac ... the things I could tell you--- but I won't. You're still too young."

"But getting older the more time I spend with you."

"Isaac ... you wound me." Sebastian smiled as he led the way down the hall toward the elevators. Isaac just grinned in response as they managed to snag a car that was empty and – strangely enough – stayed empty as they rode up to the floor ICU was located on.

Once they reached the waiting area of the Intensive Care Unit, Sebastian nodded greetings to as many of the officers he saw waiting there that he knew personally, but was pretty much rebuffed by one and all. "Did I do something wrong, Isaac?" He quietly asked of the former PD officer who merely shook his head and then, clearly spotting someone he still knew on the force, stepped away for a few seconds.

He rejoined Sebastian just as he was entering the room of the wounded Los Angeles Police Lieutenant. "Lieutenant Walker? Don't know if you recall me, but I'm with the DA's office … are you up for a little visitation?"

"It's not like I can toss your ass out, Stark, so – yeah, you might as well come on in." Gary Walker made no attempt to sit up, not that he could from what Stark knew of the officer's injuries.

Sebastian couldn't help but note how _still_ the veteran Lieutenant was, and he'd cornered the man more than 'enough' times in court to know Gary Walker was usually very animated. "I'm not sure how I should take your recalling who I am, Lieutenant. How are you doing?"

"Doing better than I had been." Walker's eyes slid past Sebastian's face and a smile flitted across the Lieutenant's face. "Hell, Wright, I always knew you'd land on your feet, but to end up in the same foul waters as The Shark?"

Isaac shrugged. "Hey, money's money, ya know? He's not that bad, Lieutenant. Really."

"I hear you there." Gary looked at Sebastian. "So, Stark, you here to take my wife into custody or are you here for another reason?"

Sebastian placed his ever-present briefcase on a nearby chair, popped it open and reached in for a sheet of paper. "I'm not here to take your wife to jail, Gary. As far as I'm concerned, she committed no crime and, personally, I want to thank her for saving me the time and effort of trying Veltre for being a major dumb ass." He placed the paper with the County's official disposition of the case on the bedside table.

"Well, hell's bells! You _did_ come over to the right side!" Gary cracked a huge smile. "I had heard about it, of course, but seeing – and hearing it in person - is believing. Welcome to the better side of society, Stark. Even if the pay sucks."

Sebastian shrugged. "The dark side's not all it's cracked up to be but don't let that get out... I've still got a reputation to maintain."

Just then, a tall and very lovely redheaded woman came into the room, followed by another women dressed in the uniform of a LAPD Sergeant, and Sebastian pretty much lost the ability to speak for a heart-stopping moment.

"Gary? Is everything okay?" The vision of loveliness asked even as she approached the Lieutenant's side and the Sergeant moved to stand between him and Isaac and the woman.

That's when Sebastian recognized the Sergeant. "Well, I see the Lieutenant still has his attack Chihuahua on a tight leash … hello, Sergeant Torres."

"Stark." The Latina's voice was cold toward him, but she looked up (and up and up) at Isaac and greeted him with a veritable heat wave by comparison. "Isaac Wright… nice to see someone with half a brain is keeping tabs on The Shark."

"Ana … still chewing people off at the ankles?" Isaac quipped back, their easy banter telling Sebastian that they probably knew each other, well, from his time on the force.

"Only when they need to be taken down a few inches." Sergeant Ana Torres responded sweetly before turning to her boss. "You want me to stick around, El-Tee?"

"I think it's safe for you to leave, Ana Rose. But stick around, you never know when, or if, the Shark's telling the truth – I might need you to take him out." Walker replied and waved a finger at her. "Go, keep the troops under control 'til I get back."

The Sergeant popped a jaunty salute and, with a friendly clasp on the arm of the redheaded woman, a clear show of friendly support, Ana Torres left the room. Sebastian regained his composure and looked to Gary Walker for an introduction to the goddess standing next to the Lieutenant's bed.

"Stark, meet my wife." His hopes were crushed, hard. "Doctor Elaine Donovan-Walker. This gentleman is from the District Attorney's office, honey." Sebastian noticed how Elaine Walker tensed up even as she moved around the end of the bed to put herself between him and her husband.

Sebastian smiled at her as reassuringly as he could. "Doctor Walker, its a pleasure to meet you, I just wish it was under better circumstances. I'm Sebastian Stark. This is my associate Isaac Wright."

"Sergeant Torres told me who you were when she pulled me out of here. Said something about trusting you as far as she could toss a Mack Truck." Elaine shook the hand offered to her in greeting, looking as if she halfway expected Wright to use her handshake with him to slap the cuffs on her. "Mister Wright."

"Doc Walker." Isaac said.

"Doctor Walker, as I was just telling your husband, the D.A.'s Office will not be pressing charges. You committed no crime."

She let out a sigh of relief as she picked up Gary's left hand from the bedside and smiled. "You were right, Gary. On occasion, the District Attorney's office does get its head out of its ass."

Isaac coughed and Sebastian snorted. "We try occasionally. Need fresh air sometimes. If you have committed a crime, Doctor--" Sebastian pointed at Gary Walker, "—it would be marrying him when I was available and clearly the better, more handsome, choice." He grinned his 'best' flirtatious smile at Mrs. Walker, who just shook her head and looked at him like he was an erring schoolboy.

Gary snorted. "Stark, you couldn't handle Elaine ... and her father would've killed you before letting you within fifty feet of her."

"One of those, hmm? Story of my life. C'mon, Isaac, we have other people's days to ruin." Sebastian waved and was out the door.

Elaine watched them go, her outlook on the day much brighter than it had been, and it got much brighter when Gary managed to actually to squeeze her hand.

"Gary!"

He smiled up at her. "I know. Happy Anniversary, Babe."

She kissed him again right on the lips.

**End of Missing Scene**

* * *

To the best of my knowledge, this will be the ONLY missing scene from Sick, Shot, and Snarling. However, if you like this tale, you might want to 'alert' on it ….. You can never tell when the Twisted Evilettes might revisit a story. --Suisan, Twisted Evilette AKA Evil Twin


End file.
